As a child

As a child I spent countless hours
cradling thoughts
in a mouthful of LOUD words!

But oh how my tongue longed
to spit ideas at people
who had their own
and could lay them gently upon stone,
but solid connections
were never really linked
strangers remained strange
which made me thus stranger

My hands were different
from the other kids,
they did not gesture ever so animately
or play patty-cake
nor did these lips crave kisses
from cute boys
like those pretty girls

Instead I wrote
and wrote
and wrote more
with dreams swirling about my fingertips
a passionate, but timid flame
too shy to burn brightly
too afraid of wind,

unlike these older flares