Words Poem by Vera Sidhwa

Words came to him,
Like rain on a cloudy day.
They left his pen,
Molded into word shapes in clay.

They spoke of the little,
And they spoke of the grand.
These words were meant,
To speak what was at hand.

They turned into phrases,
Sentences and stories.
They molded in paragraphs,
And the stories' glories.

These words came to him,
Like rain on a cloudy day.
They worked through his pen,
Molded into word shapes in clay.