word planet

[Allen Bramhall]

faces in words exempt old people. the sentence arrives with a 
statistical surprise called syntax. the old people resolve to find that 
part again. and as it loops over their heads as eagles did in the day, 
something strange drifts into almost saying. but alas, love isn't just a 
verb. it confuses the old people when the town, the town. people aren't 
committed to safe words over the period of a sentence. they feel 
sentence is a stronghold. then old people, old people, and rhyme turns 
into a charm for one day only. rhyme? wasn't that the name of a child, 
even one nearby? old faces grew to make a stern reply, but replies are 
not original. everyone else is, tho. the peace seems agreeable, 
forgetting some of the measures. pity makes a mistake, just one, but 
it's enough. people stop on dimes, quarters, timepieces. dust stirs up. 
syntax begins a reprimand, but words don't listen. old people are words, 
ill-matched or adjusted to some oddity. merriment, that was some child 
too. blue sky, keeper. red sun, asking forever. yellow sun, that doesn't 
happen often. and in between becomes an association.