Looking with his ears, Hearing with his eyes,
Not really mute, he simply didn't know how to speak.
One word, then another string together,
a crack spreads across an ice covered lake.
Now there is an open channel, and his thoughts roil the water.
Currents rise, word fish leap into the air,
their scaly letters glisten in the sun.
Splashing onto the page
they are caught at last.
Nice. Welcome to Fictionaut. *
Thank you so much. After familiarizing myself with some of your work a "nice" from you is a ginormous complement!
Lovely imagery here.
Thank you, Chris, for your encouraging feedback.