When they tremble
I tremble too. I wish I could help
give them a new meaning,
all twenty six letters line up, perfectly.
Who am I to rearrange them?
As they stand now forever they remain
cemented, together. A tight-knit family,
no comma, could break.
In my mind they are a block of ice
causing no harm floating down stream.
Why should I step on them and slip?
The pick-up and go is a feature I endeavor, but
I can only watch as letters come together
form words, curve into cursive flip around, turn
and maintain the same meaning.
It’s nothing to them, but
I’m too narrow-minded;
I wouldn’t dare
to attempt such change.
For now, I will look admire from a far
as they melt into water, drift into the current
and out toward the sea