Reverence for words.
I write, More than I speak. I carry my words In feathers. They're silver lined Like the moon. I touch them with a Light hand. Fearing they might shatter too; (My framework alike) My idioms, Are vague, unclear and appalling. Sometimes, Delicate and clumsy. I sit retaining, Each term of mine Back to life. It would be wrong of me, To slaughter