Arrows
I am taking ordinary words
Plucked from your everyday;
Words you use to order a coffee,
Pick up the dry-cleaning,
Argue over splitting the bill.
Words that are shiny with overuse,
Words with their edges worn off;
Words that are peeling at the corners.
I will quietly gather these spent and broken words
That you would never miss,
And in my hands they become arrows,
Shining silver and swift
As I fire them through your eyes and straight down into your heart.
© mjc 01 December 2015
