Barret O'Brien

What if words were made of chocolate and honey?

What if you ate them like a meal?

That each was devoured once heard, never to be uttered again.

Would you savor each? Would you save your favorites for old age?

What would delectable taste like? What would sensual feel like sliding across your tongue?

When would you use love if you only had once?

What would you scream once expletives were gone?

Maybe you’d scream less. Maybe you’d listen more.

Maybe you’d sit patiently and wait, like the old timer on the bench in the park,

watching the youngsters prattle their syllables away,

while he waits, with tiny feasts,

for the right moment,

the right ear,

to deliver

one

word

at

a

time.