Words fall, tumbling from her lips;

A multitude of riddles and gibberish

It's what she seems to omit that

Would make all the puzzle's pieces fit

And sometimes, when words fail

They crash into each other

Halting into awkward silence.

She longs to enlighten them:

Its not the words said that mean so much

But words neglected, quietened

With gentle touch: It's not silence

That hinders growth

For silence can be comfortable,

Golden, when accepted willingly

But they question and stare

Pressuring her they sulk and glare

And she aches for understanding

For compassion and care

Longing for them to hear

The words that aren't given air.