We have so many words, beautiful words.

Words like a poet’s sheep in herds.

Those descriptive things we call them words.

If we give them wings, they’ll fly like birds.

Useless though, they spiral downwards.

If the tale to tell is greater than words.

Words for us here sadly fail,

When our dictionaries’ power’s frail,

with words that in comparison pale,

to the feelings in our hearts that swell,

Description, that’s the poets grail.

Some try, and some to no avail.

To grasp the power, remove the veil,

from life and all it does entail.

For words that make emotion stale,

work much less well to tell the tale.