Progeny of Words

"Words are my children," I say, With disbelief, look at me, they. How can anyone understand This unseen relation of an unknown land? How words smile at me when I groom them, In a meaningful string, I bind them. Like all children, they too would grow, On the tide of time effortlessly flow. And like any aged mother, old and meek Would hold on to words for support, like a stick. On the rough stream of life, my boat will sail, Leaving progeny of words on my trail.