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!