It’s been too long since I’ve asked anyone to tell me a story
Will it always be thus?
Every word you utter, I blindly see as an answer
Each time you glance my way, I feel all is well in my world
My breath stays caught in my throat
I await a sign you’re paying attention
My hands clench to keep from wringing with anticipation
You speak and I hear water rushing to smooth rough stones
You smile and I swear I could die of joy in that moment
How will you ever know how close I was to my end
Are there any combinations of words I could make
To make you see the cubist portrait of my psyche
And how I have turned cozy impressionist
Tell me anything you want
I will listen to stories, stats, swearing
Anything but stillness
Tell me truths or lies or wishes
I just want to hear your voice
As you wear me down and polish me
My own ideas pushed aside awhile can’t hurt
That’s when the big waves come
And tell their own endings to our story
The Word Rummager 
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