He could write that music,
He could make things rhyme,
Yet he could not much comprehend,
This feeling about her all the time.
A humble novice song writer,
Going all crazy about her.

All his thoughts, All his songs,
His heart to her it belongs,
Never was his songs mundane,
Seeing her smile when she came.

All the magic he would write,
Yet non that he could own,
He sits by every morning light,
Sitting, thinking, all alone.
An awe-inspiring song writer,
Yet is nothing without her.

Working wonders with his pen,
Loved a love Fate never meant,
Absence makes the love go weaker,
With time she was there no longer.

All his thoughts, all his songs,
His heart to her it belonged.
No longer was his songs the same,
Without her he was a maim.

This ends the story of a songwriter,
crazy about her,
nothing without her.

(C) January 21 2010 KC