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| Where are the Words? |
| Gwyneth Box  |
| Where are the words I need? Like a spendthrift I have squandered them, scattering them on the green lawns of forty summers, frittering them on trivialities. I look in books, in dictionaries and lexicons, but they are blank as my notebook: empty of inspiration. The wind has carried away all the words, borne them on the warm air, like so many seagulls. Like a prodigal, I am left destitute, my tongue, dry, licking at stale crusts. |
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