what if words were snowflakes falling
and the perfect poem settled on your tongue
and dissolved
leaving your tongue a secret the world wished it knew
what if letters were wind
and the perfect story pushed past your face
whispering to your spring skin
leaving you feeling ready for the day, yet like you forgot some important appointment
what if sentences were the sound of thunder
and the secret of life cracked from the sky and into your ears
explained everything, while you counted, waiting for the next boom
leaving only a distant echo of lightning's vibration
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