Words make sense in every way,
We use them each and every day,
We ask, we tell, we scorn, we praise,
We tell of life and special days,
We sing the words that tell our story,
Be they of sadness death or glory,
They stand as testament to living,
Of times of need and times of giving,
So why oh why can words not spell?
That simple line I need to tell,
Just what it is you mean to me,
And without you, just where I'd be,
For though I've searched a million times,
And tried to say in many rhymes,
The words that sit inside my heart
Just how I ...