A hungry word sat waiting
For writing recollection
Not appealing at the outset
Nor in the eye line of selection
Pleading in a dictionary
In a stream-of-word obsession
With many wise alternatives
And so, avoiding repetition
Not regular or popular
But yearning to be heard
A quiet yet persistent call
Within the writer stirred
In the shadows, it resides
Amongst the silent letters
Dreaming of a moment
When its usage makes things better
A saviour in the language
A gem yet to be found
The hungry word remains unseen
On uncharted ground
It waits for inspiration
A spark to light its way
To transform the mundane prose
Into something bright and gay
For in the heart of silence
There's a word that holds the key
To unlock the boundless realms
Of creativity
So let us heed the whisper
Of the hungry, waiting word
And give it life and meaning
In every line that's heard
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