“I lost my words. Have you seen them?” I ask when she opens Her door.
She smiles and says, “Well it’s about time you stopped by” and then turns to fetch Her hat.
“That’s a bit fancy for a word search, don’t you think?” I say, nodding at Her fancy bonnet.
“Oh this old thing?” she looks up, then smiles, and then grabs my arm.
And we walk hand in arm through Her garden of words, plucking daffodil limericks and daisies of rhymes.
And I leave with a bouquet of syntax and lyrics, not finding what I lost, but with what we found.