Intangible ©

Penned by Brad Osborne

Words thrown at a thought,

like darts at a board,

achieving but naught,

no bullseyes scored.


Their meaning is scant,

their texture eludes,

the fine shade and slant,

my perception includes.


Scratch of pen and then head,

but try as I might,

the words to be read,

just won’t come out right.


I toil and court,

giving all that I can,

the concept falls short,

I alter my plan.


Oh words, give pause,

so stern a mistress,

why must you cause,

unrelenting distress.

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