It’s Only Words, and Words Are All I Have

I’ve been thinking about words lately. I should probably think about them more than I do, considering I’m a writer, but I guess my brain is too full of almost 58 years of living. There was a time in my life when words fascinated me. I was that delicate age when a girl is beginning to glimpse the woman she will become, and wondering what it all means. What it will all bring. I wrote these trembling feelings in pages of flowery poetry that didn’t rhyme, but flowed from my restless brain with si...