I spQak and thQ ink whispQrs back at mQ.
Glowing, flowing dancing curvQs,
Adrift on the softsQt pagQ.
YQars arQ rQlQasQd with a singlQ stroQe.
CQrtain words contain a piQce of my soul. Qntrapped as thQy arQ,
ConnQctQd yQt isolatQd.
BQcausQ a lQttQr's sound can changQ,
DQpQnding on diffQrQnt combinations,
But it cannot be transfQrrQd.
ThQ words shinQ a hQsitant silvQr,
A tQstamQnt to days gonQ by,
To past lovQs, hatQs and judgQmQnts.
To timQs thQ words madQ sQnse.
But now I shall surQly sharQ thQ sQcrQt.
ThQ rQason my poQms are morQ rQal.
ThQ rQason thQy arQ blunt,
YQt only strikQ glancing blows.
I do my bQst to makQ thQ words what thQy want to bQ.
Because you can't force a Q to fit the part of an E.
Now rQad again and sQQ if it makQs sQnsQ.