I’m drifting along, and quite suddenly,

A brand new emotion becomes part of me

As I rush to describe what goes on in my head –

I find that the words have already been said.

 

Just as my feelings are new to me,

So should the way I describe them be.

Though our basic emotions are often the same,

My thoughts, I can’t give – for another to name.

 

Someone else couldn’t know how much beauty I place,

On the feel of the rain as it touches my face.

Or a beautiful day filled with sunshine and birds,

Why must I describe with another man’s words?

 

Or my first glimpse of love, the sensations I feel,

Someone else’s expression of love I must steal.

Or the painful awareness of love that’s been lost,

How can another man’s words tell the cost?

 

As I write of my love, my pen fills with dread,

That somewhere, at sometime, my words have been said.

If I do find a way, then I too, must face,

That my painting of love, someday someone will trace.

 

~ Sandi Burton