Only words may bridge the stream and swamp — Forsaken, forbearing, and fortuitous — Eventually on transit seven or six Near the land strewn with rocks. Yearning for silver not sand, I’m Alluding to all four letters spelling them with my digits: twelve fifteen twenty-two five please make it count
This poem, I wrote a few years ago and have polished it a little recently, in my writing group.
If you have the time and energy to read more of these texts you find them in blog order on this website. Let me know what you associate with them, what you like, what you dislike, …
Texterium 
I was wondering! Love the poem. Also, something about that sentence at the end of the note resonates. Like you’re explaining but still mysterious. I was like “Oh, I understand … wait do I?”🤣. Really nice writing both the poem and the prose.
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Thank you. … and I had broken the link to the poem of the beginning, because it now needed an afterthought. Now the link is fixed, and the rest is broken.
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