A Word
is on my tongue,
the word I long to speak.
It rolls over my pallet
like fine wine.
Swallow it and I am
intoxicated with the joy of it.
Speak it and I am
diminished for the loss of it.
Once uttered it is no longer
mine, but belongs
to Wind and
Ear.
I can never call it back,
make it mine again.
Pangean Poetry 
divine imagery, a word roll like fine wine, enjoyable line.
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Thank you, glad you enjoyed it.