it goes without saying

with my snappy little tongue

that words find their home

in that tiny little rung

-the one that goes upwards

the one that goes down,

the one that find peace

in the snap of a sound

this refers to the reeling

the gnawing, the climb

but also the sniper

the slither, the slime

this refers to the river

the big open shoes

the ladel, the cricket

-this rung knows no rules!

and after i'm finished 

with this little rhyme

i'll probably stop it- 

this silly little climb

for often 

what's needed

is sharing the game,

the way that my world works

and that's nothin' lame