Wordplay Wednesday #10: Untitled

I might have been on a rhyming kick when I wrote this…

Words, they are
a dozen a dime,
without reason,
without rhyme,
they come to me
in their own time.
They march along
in random lines,
showing the way
like traffic signs.
Stick-shift cars
up steep inclines,
up the mountains
gondolas climb.
Picks and shovels
in the mines,
prospectors covered
in grit and grime.
Wind through willows
and singing chimes,
branches shadow
hungry bovine.


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