Zipped since long they’ve become rusted.
Once they were seen ajar for awhile, nothing came out but abstruse broken pieces.
Losing their power every day, and wishing to gain some strength if can.
They have so much to tell and much more to gainsay.
Yearning to move beyond the barriers often pandiculates within.
But winter’s cold breeze takes summer’s softness away, and leaves them dry like drought afflicted soil.
Still alive they are like stories of raconteur remain forever.
Their faded beauty is more enchanting like old books that always give a new insight to readers.
You can’t find a kink in the rhythm of fables crooning by them.
Their sweet melody takes you in trance and you immerse yourself in the depth to collect gems hidden.
They are zipped and looking forward to feeling the lams* of your fingers.
Do you have time to unzip these zipped lips??