It had never really dawned on you
the power letters hold,
until it was finally
your turn
to try thinking of words,
possible to be placed
on board, with other words,
through their beginnings, ends,
and if fortunate still, their middles.
If these words could only fall
on squares that would give them
more value, was there any chance
for a change of placing, of decision?
A challenge, indeed.
How was it suddenly hard
to make sense of sentences,
how fast should the mind think
to not keep the both of you,
too long, just waiting?
You were certainly not certain.
Winning had never been
really what you wanted,
for to play this game
was to spend hours on scrabbling—
finding possibilities you could not see.
It was supposed to be this hard.
For it had never really dawned on you,
the power words hold,
until it was finally
your turn
to love.
