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What if a poet were to lose his words,
what if he could see nothing in his heart,
to express the pain or the joy he feels
when he woos his love, who is miles apart…
It would be sad, to not see the world,
In colours that only a poet could bring,
Those hundred rainbows, ’twere mixed and swirled,
In words that only a poet could sing…
In misery, in joy, in a mundane day’s sunset,
To look for those miracle words, in the rain so wet;
Upon the parched earth, upon the flooding lanes,
In the flight of the birds, as the yellow moon wanes…
Like dewdrops and snowflakes, and all things so pure,
What if the words evaporate, what if they disappear,
There’d be so many wounds to heal, afflictions to cure
And the world would be poorer, and we’d shed a tear….