I was taking a shower, basking in the scent of my green tea shampoo when — poof! — a phrase popped into my mind like a gift from the muses. “Words, like pixie dust, falling down.”

As a word nerd and music fanatic, I couldn’t help but grin. This phrase sounded like something I’d hear on the radio. Sure, I’m no songwriter. Heck, I can’t even play an instrument. But, in some alternate universe, I’d write songs with the timeless brilliance of Carole King, the raw energy of Bruce Springsteen, and the infectious glow of Taylor Swift. I’d call my imaginary song “Words Like Pixie Dust.”

Why pixie dust, you ask? Well, those shimmering sparkles that Tinkerbell scattered weren’t just for show — they were the very magic that helped Peter Pan and his friends soar through the skies. And just like those twinkling particles, words carry their own kind of enchantment. One minute you’re stuck in the monotony of a long day, and the next — bam! — a well-placed rhyme or metaphor sends your mind soaring. (That’s not to say that words can’t also bring you to the depths of despair, but, hey, that’s a topic for another day.)

As a kid, books were my gateway to magical worlds. They didn’t just tell stories — they breathed life into characters right before my eyes. Words are phenomenal by themselves, but, when paired with a melody? Oh, that’s where the real pixie dust comes to life.

The combination of words and music can turn a simple story into a virtual anthem. Take Carole King’s “Tapestry” album, for example. When I first heard “It’s Too Late” and “So Far Away,” I felt mesmerized by their emotional depth. It’s like I was hearing my secret self — the one who somehow knew how to play the piano and weave words into tunes.

But here’s the thing: It’s never too late to dream up that secret life you’ve always wanted. So, as a would-be songwriter, I’d start with my favorite part — the chorus. Oh, yeah, I’m a chorus girl through and through, though not the kind who dances in public. I love the kind of chorus that grabs you by the soul and refuses to let go, lingering in your head long after the music stops.

For my imaginary song, I’d unleash a massive chorus with the same explosive energy as Bruce’s E Street Band. As for lyrics? I’d start with “Words like pixie dust falling down.” That, after all, was the inspiration, so why not give it prominent billing? Line two? “Landing on pages all around.” And to wrap up the stanza? “Bringing color where there’s only gray / Every word a spark that lights the way.”

Spoiler alert: I’m no Taylor Swift (rank amateur is fine with me), but here’s the beauty of lyrics: they don’t need to do all the heavy lifting by themselves. That’s where a killer band and epic voices would come to my rescue. I can already picture the crowd, pumping their fists in the air, floating on their own trail of pixie dust.

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Now let’s rewind to the verses. They’d start slow and gentle as I set the scene, me as the word nerd floating on pixie dust.

Then the rhythm would pick up as I dive into my three favorite literary devices. First is rhyme. Simple ones like “Later ‘gator” and “After a while crocodile” show that words aren’t just words: They can make a simple goodbye sing.

Next up? The chorus would come charging back in, making us feel like we’re flying. Then we’d have a verse about onomatopoeia, those glorious words that sound like what they mean, such as “buzz,” “whisper,” and “pop.” Finally, we’d hit the grand master of them all — metaphor — because Shakespeare was right. The world is a stage.

To tie it all together, we’d reach the bridge. Here I’d connect pixie dust to the music that lifts you up.

After that? You guessed it: The chorus once again. This time, I’d amp it up with a gospel choir. How’s that sound?

And now for the pièce de résistance: the outro. Maybe I’d end with an a cappella “words like pixie dust, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Okay, so I’m copying the Beatles, but, hey, why not? After all, I’d want to leave you feeling inspired. Yes, you, too, can compose your own little ditty. There’s something about “yeah, yeah, yeah” that feels so right. It’s totally customizable — just like pixie dust, helping you float off the ground and soar, soar, soar.

Joan Axelrod-Contrada is a writer who lives in Florence and is working on a collection of essays, “Rock On: A Baby Boomer’s Playlist for Life after Loss.” Reach her at joanaxelrodcontrada@gmail.com.