Some are born with the talent to make you swoon,
Some work to bend the meanings,
Some hide the truth behind the corners,
But all work with one purpose,
To make words do their bidding.
Go forth, come back, don't leave my love.
The cries of a loved one lost at sea.
But no matter what they do,
The words will come unbidden,
Flowing with the ink of your pen.
The hero, the fool,
Each to their own,
Their life, their words
Coming so quickly to their tongue.
They are the ones who make the demands,
To make you work,
To give them life,
To make the story flow.