Words

Words are mine,
To re-arrange and taunt.
To place them in a way,
And say what ere I want.

They offer me expression,
To guide and move my tongue.
Each can make a cheerful day,
Like beads...so brightly strung.

Unless...I rise in anger,
And jealous thoughts insert.
Unless...I bruise anothers' heart,
And leave them there to hurt.

No need to be so flighty,
And let mean tones come out.
No need to rise disgustedly,
And lunge...and scream...and shout.

For when our minds have calmed,
From moments...we were weak.
We'll be so glad to know there were,
Some words...we didn't speak.


E.P. 1908 - 1989