I live in worlds created with words

I live in worlds created with words. 

Sometimes the world is a compact cleft in a gargantuan rock which shields me from the wind that blows out there spreading dust over my footprints so that my hurts won’t be traced.

Sometimes the world is a shallow river that flows between towering mountains with luxuriant foliage that rustles with the ripples my giggles create in the gently fondling water.

Once in a while the world is a little oasis in a large desert, a patch of cool, green, moist sensuousness in the midst of benumbing sandy aridness. 

I love the worlds created with words.