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