Words

For some

It is the time between today and tomorrow

When the clock stops ticking

The world stops turning

And their thoughts slow down

For some

It is right before dawn arrives

And the world is shaken awake

By chirping birds and blinding sunrise

That words finally pour out of them

For some

It is while waiting for their food to arrive

At the table only they occupy

And on a folded serviette they write

Words they cannot hold in anymore

For some

It is when a stranger sits next to them

In a bus headed home

And they are tired after a day’s work

But a familiar voice or scent

Takes them back to the time

They so frequently write about

For some

There is no time for the writing of words

Not between one day and another

Not at 3am when it’s so quiet, so still

Not while waiting for someone

And not when surrounded by strangers

For some

It’s not words they write in notebooks

Or crumpled paper

Or serviettes

That set them free

But it is in the words of others that

They find solace