the crest upon the soft, tremulous wave of “hope,”

the letter that softens the tips of so many words with its

respectful silence, the difference

between “quit” and “quiet”

between “sat” and “sate”

between “wild” and “wield;”

the vowel that sets my full, brave name’s many syllables

in its perfect lilting rhythm.

it isn’t proud, like “A or “B” but simply

gently smiling

a secret strength.

“Ee” is kind and adaptable; be it

“theater” or “theatre” she’s just happy to be a part of such a grand word.

it’s the last thing before you “die”

the last warmth of being sweetly, melodically



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