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.


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