Words
Words
Where do words come from?
In moments of exhilaration or despair
They come unbidden, sometimes tumbling,
Sometimes meandering, making their uninvited way,
The welcomed unwelcome guest.
Thoughts of you lay dormant,
Quietly biding their time until chance
Encounter on Facebook summons them,
And they turn inward to words past,
The remembrances of love.
The soft belltone of a wineglass
Tapped to ring in the splash of ruby,
Lubricant of words, key to
Disinhibited recall of feelings and touch,
The gentle caress of Bacchus’ arms.
Thus unlocked, I await their coming,
Expectant, hopeful, certain of their power,
To charm and persuade, yet
Still uncertain they will answer my call,
Fearful they will betray me.
Where are you, words?
Why do you not spring forth, my champions,
My shimmering knights, when the
Dragon emerges from her lair and breaths
Her sweetly perfumed fire?
You are my caparisoned destrier,
My lance, my sword, my shattering mace;
You are my armour bright,
To win me fortune at the tilt,
My Lady’s token favour.
Ah Words, you desert me!
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