Words Poem by Mark Heathcote

Words are divine; they're intermittent manifestations
saying truth is easily-spoken but difficult to hear-
or find I want to love you; I want to touch you.
We've nothing on this blank page unwritten left to hide.

It's just our comprehension that accepts no mistakes
aren't we writers always in meditative states of thought?
Don't we all want never to get writer's block?
Nobody put on my brakes.

So we require a set of skills like a singer, Birdy, says
you keep my secrets, hope to die.
Promises, swear them to the sky-
so we require a set of skills, authoress & authors.

Words, words are there to make us smile or cry,
words are divine; they can even be your one true friend
their intermittent manifestations-are-like soothing kisses
Words, words are divine at saying, won't you be mine
until I reach my end.