Flaw Salad

One day, she ran out of words. She reached down deep, and none were left in her. She said all the things a person could say, and she laid her head to rest.

After a long sleep, she awoke to the same. She could no more tell the birds they were singing than she could tell a friend she felt alone.

She wandered in search of new thoughts and found them all used, recycled, tired. Her world, ever the same, felt alien. She could no longer describe it.

She sat by the river and watched it flow, waiting for an idea to float by.

For many years, she surveyed the river’s run, and never once did anything change.