I use my words to build a house
with a solid foundation to offer stability.
I utilize orange-red bricks
To build up the walls.
I put a gray, shingled roof over the top
To protect it from the rain.
I leave spaces for doors and windows
So that others may enter or peer inside.
I use my verbs to lay down the concrete driveway,
My nouns to place the sturdy hedges,
My adjectives to grow the flowers in shades
Of magenta and deep violet.
With my sentences, I labor until the landscape is complete,
Until I am sure that the house will not topple over,
Until there are trees and grass
Decorating the space with vibrant green.
I hope you can see this view
In all its imaginary glory.
These descriptions don’t come naturally to me,
But my favorite author paints pictures with her words,
Wondrous, dynamic images,
And I try to copy her.
The truth is when I close my eyes
And think these phrases,
Everything is blank.
I cannot see what I created.
But that doesn’t mean that I can’t build a house
with a foundation and walls and a roof,
with doors and windows,
Because even if I don’t have a picture,
I still have my words.
Image by MR1313 from Pixabay
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The Yellow Brick Ave 