words,

I pour my words, and they tumble into the day, i see which ones are captured by my net. I ask myself if these are the lucky ones to be used and spent? Other words slip and fall, escape through apertures large and small, some to return, some never to be used within a lifetime. Im awashed with a feeling of melancholy for such words, maybe they will be captured by another cast?  So few are layed before me. I hope tomorrows catch will be bigger, as i am at a loss of how to finish this piece. Words have deserted me.