OLD HEART, NEW SONG
The music man weaves his magic
Blesses the word with soulful sound
How does the wordsmith let him know
The beauty he holds within his hand
I find it very hard to say
The words that well within
You’ve touched a dreamers fantasy
However do I say to thee
You have lit the light I see
You’ve bought to wing the song
I made a friend just yesterday
Who has given me tomorrow
Found the words I had to say
A blend of joy and sorrow
A poets lilt
From it you built, a hope
That takes this aging heart to flight
It soars with joy in sheer delight
I am the word
You are the song
Sing me
By Joy Faulkner
Saturday, September 12, 2009
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