Weather of Words

The words like droplets flow from fluent lips
They freely fall on flower buds of ears,
That spring to life and blossom golden tips,
An eager beauty sprung from bouchen tears.
Yet cooler climate stirs this silken flow,
And tiny droplets hard as ice will grow.
These fair and soothing words have turned to snow,
And what was once sweet counsel turns to foe.
But gentle flow’r let not your petals fold.
For winter gusts will turn again to spring.
Anew your leaves will gently rim with gold.
And lips that once did torment now will sing.
Beware the mouth with every human speaks,
For out of it both good and evil leaks.

* A Sonnet