Word Dialectics


Words are wings
When fairies fly upon them
Transporting delight to keen ears
Waiting for tidings
Of pursuits dear
That have slipped awhile
Past the ken
Of short memory.

Words are stings
At the tails of bees
Swooping to charge
At the unsuspecting
Showing sense of might
With pricking pain
When honey would do the
Everlasting trick.

Words often do fuel
But are always dual.

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