The Wordsmith

Gorgeous word colors painted on a canvas of sentence and paragraph
You don’t write the words– you craft them
Like gold within a fire
Like music on a page
You shape something that exists into beauty
An unrefined diamond
a little lump of clay
This ugly, distorted language
Blossoms into beauty at the work of your fingertips
Oh how I covet your ability to smithy words
But not as much as I count among my blessings
your gorgeous word colors as you paint them on a paragraph canvas
Your craft
Your art
You bring to the world



Filed under Free Verse, Letter

4 responses to “The Wordsmith

  1. Yes! And how the older, simpler Saxon words yield up more colour than those with roots in Latin.

    Thanks for commenting on ‘Christmas 1914’. May you have a fruitful New Year.

  2. This is lovely. ‘Smithy words,’…you are working some magic yourself.

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