Thyme and Reason

Words, they bind me
written on the page, hidden in the corners...
Words, they find me.

The tips of reason and of rhyme
weave their way onto my tongue, into my mind...
Seasoning banal thoughts with luscious grace.
A bush of lavender, a sprig of thyme.

Slowly, line by line
unfolds a map, these journeys of my time.
I am: traveller, voyager
liver, scavenger
Though I defy each dot, each cross

Each time this rhyme, this line
skips on

ahead

foreign passages unmistakably mine.