Words are nothing more br than dust upon the page br they drift and scatter br like my random thoughts of you br br I'm hidden in the pages of your books br and feel br your thumb flick through br the memories you smear br br But I am ink upon your days br and I'm smeared across br each sentence you configure br br So don't try to read between the lines br I'll be dancing on each vowel br and spitting consonants into the putrid airbr br Sheila Knowlesbr br