Words

After a stroll in the garden one fine evening

I lie in your lap under a moonlit sky 

I look at you and feel such a lightness of being

A sweet poem flows from the depths of my mind

Then I imagine a man thousands of years ago

Who after a day in the woods hunting big game

Would've expressed his joy at being back home

By grunting a few times to his voluptuous dame

Aren't we glad for beautiful words in our time

That draw out our sublime threads of thought

Into the loom of language with the warp of rhyme

And weave exquisite poems of silken cloth?

Would you have known the depth of my devotion

Had I grunted a bit instead of singing a poem?

Would my mind have birthed the finer emotions

Without the trellis of words to support them?

Then I find you looking at me with such tenderness

As you run your fingers through my hair in a caress

I see in your eyes that there is nothing else

You want more in this world than my happiness

I drown in your love, you haven't said a word yet

Let alone weave a baroque poem 

Oh, true feelings of the heart are perhaps felt

No matter how or whether you say them