The Words

     The words from my lips were like butterflies escaping,

        One after another they seemed to just fly outwards and upwards

           Quickly fluttering and floundering;

Once spoken, they couldn't be taken back.

 Though they may be out of sight now, they can’t be unseen or unheard;

   And now they’re out there somewhere, trying to make sense

        Looking for a place to land.

    I tried to tell you everything, yet, I’m not quite sure you understand.

     Though I know you try.

 I may be well spoken and have an eloquence to my words, but there are some things  

        even a poet wishes could be understood without needing to be heard.

-s.g