NaPoWriMo 2015 04

And today there is something that we will not talk about.

Although this thing is common, and a very popular subject for
Poems and songs, and for novels, and although in one way or
Another it is used every day by people of all possible sorts,
We will not use this word, no, we will not use this word.
The mother gazing at her newborn may shed a happy tear
And the child whose night is haunted by the lurking monster
May call for this, for someone big and strong to come and sit near
Until the terror fades, and teddy banishes the underbed lurker.
The shy and diffident young man might think of this when,
Gazing at the person of his dreams, with tongue-tied stammer, then,
Finally dare to ask them out. The dark-haired, dark-eyed woman
Might long to be embraced with this, to be held within its hand.
The kitten knows its warm caress, the puppy frolics in its care,
The sleeping cat on the windowsill seeks sun's warmth there
And knows the touch of this thing; the tired, old dog walks where
He knows the ground, and in that knowing this thing is shared.
But still, today, we will not use this word, this word that beats
Within each living heart, this word that is to human life as breath,
This word that inspires the composer's pen, the strings beneath
The guitarist's hands, this word that is to us as life and death.

© 2ndwitch, 04/04/15