Ink and paper, words and rhyme, thoughts of love, throughout all time…
Man
has thought to share his words, since he learned to draw a line.
The signs and
pictures, upon cave walls, that told of hurt and fears…
To scrolls and parchment,
and pages of stone, words left for other years.
Ink and paper, words and
rhyme, no matter what their form…
They tell of laughter, song and tears, describe
the sound of storms.
And lovers share them near a fire, and pick out special
ones…
And have them etched upon their stones, when life is finally done.
For special things, you've said to me, if linked from end to end…
Would make
a wonderful poem I know, that I could show my friends.
Perhaps one day, when
it is cold, a nice warm fire we'll start…
We'll sit and read them one by one,
and let them touch our hearts.
Ink and paper, words and rhyme, of love I
send to you…
To tell you how you make me feel, and that my love is true.
So when the year the years have passed us by, and other lovers come…
They can
read the words I've left, and share them one by one.
Ron
Walker
October 1999
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