Every tongue is unique, what you say is only you,
you talk your own talk, the language of your mind,
your words are those you chose, you tell as only you can tell,
each of your unique journey’s steps,
your own path, no footprint matched,
your tale only yours,
your details yours, your speech, your thoughts,
you’re all you,
a bird born to fly a singular pattern in its shared sky,
arc and bank and roll alone, your passages cut through headwinds,
tailwinds pushing you from where only you’ve been.
It’s when your lips are tight, Lucille,
silent as a still rock never sounding out to say
this is how I roll, that you’re not remarkable.
