Words

In my previous post, I discussed me accepting the fact I am not simply a historian, or writer, but just a poet... I guess technically a poet is a writer, but not all writers are poets. Anyway, I had touched on my much earlier works and that I had one or two that I was still comfortable with posting. I therefore bring you a blast from my past, with a couple of minor alterations. The following poem was written in 1994, somewhat on the fly and composed, really, in my head. It's also, for some strange reason, the only poem I've written that I can quote with accuracy (maybe it's because I write these down and can access them that I haven't taken the time to memorize them). Do enjoy (one hopes), and have a great weekend.

'Words'

I have not the charm to bring you flowers,
Nor the wit to woo you with my laugh.
I have but a few simple words
That I speak from the heart,
And inscribe with a pen.

I have not the form of Adonis,
Nor the grace of a diplomat.
I have only the passion of my voice
That leaps from the soul,
And reaches beyond joy.

If I had the grace, the charm, or the wit
To win your heart, my dear
Freely would I give.
Words, though, are what I know
And my only gift to you.

C.