By Holly Culhane
In the words of a poet…
If all that we say in a single day,
With never a word left out.
Were printed each night
In clear black and white
‘Twould prove strange reading, no doubt.
And then, just suppose,
‘Ere our eyes we could close
We must read the whole record through;
Then wouldn’t we sigh
And wouldn’t we try
A great deal less talking to do?
And I more than half think
That many a kink
Would be smoother in life’s tangled thread
If half that I say in a single day
Were to be left forever unsaid.
And, in the words of Solomon…
A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver.