Time stops,
a random occurrence,
while we collect our thoughts
(I think we’re lost)
but, maybe not
Maybe, we’re found,
caught between
figments and notions
of fiction and reality
as we spin tales
for other’s eyes
(such greedy spies,
they gobble up our words)
Time starts,
we twist words and weave stories
because insanity is art
and we play a part
in our dear readers’ hearts
(or so we hope)
Breath of Words© 2/6/17