The words, the words, the beautiful words The prose, the muse, the feelings they stir The plays, the songs… dreams that deferred The place where the loving and losing occur When Shakespeare and Pushkin and Fyodor speak It reads like rebuttals to Platos critiques It gives my mind, often weary and bleak A moment in time to relax and retreat And ponder the future that’s written by Dick …filling my soul, with Leo and Fitz Laughing with Toltz, I sit in suspense While Enjoying a fright, at Edgars expense The words, the words, the beautiful words The metaphors, nouns, adjectives, verbs The Dramas, the poems, the wildly absurd The imagery dripping in every verse Confucius that showed that a thinker can lead Gives a man hope every time that he reads Tolkien and Rowling sure cover a need But Ernest and Dickens are more of my speed If you see me with hardbacks and wondrous gaze Whether bright with delight, or angry with rage …Know I’m gaining new life every turn of the page Eternally grateful that we have been graced With… The words, the words, the beautiful words The prose, the muse, the feelings they stir The plays, the songs… dreams that deferred The place where the loving and losing occur