Words dripped without meaning when
She had no words, no way to say
And all around her listeners prayed
For when the babe would speak.
Words poured without listening when
She chattered them, we nattered when
We wished that she might learn the way
Words were questions, hopes and dreams
Words were more than any seemed
Words were thoughts made real and gleaned
From fields of mystery.
Words were promises she tried
To keep and nights to sleep and she
Plucked sound from trees to pour around the leaves
Of pages. Ages passed.
Words were left unread, unheard
Unknown, the flitting forest bird
Full-grown carried the leaves away
To nest. And now she rests.
Based on the prompt: Tell your fears, accomplishments, desires, strengths, and weaknesses in publishing