Eloquence
©2007 Debra Fotheringham

Words seem to make so much sense
When they're on paper.
Arranged in straight, orderly, comprehensive rows.

They've got rhyme; they've got rhythm;
They're alliterated, and sometimes even clever.
But expose them to air and there's nothing there;
They're just simple, hollow words.

Chorus:

I wish that we could feel the words
And you would know,
In a glance. if by chance,
I wanted you to.

Inside my head I can be eloquent.
But when it comes out, it’s all irrelevant.
Just making noise.
Words I thought were contemplative just come
out twisted, jaded.
And then I'm lost.

What I'm trying to explain just comes
out as vain, lost again.
Maybe if I wrote it down
You would know what it is I've found, maybe.

Chorus

Speech doesn't come to me very easily
So if I can't look you in the eye,
It's all my tongue's fault.

I feel for those who don't speak.
We're labeled rude, stuck up, a freak.
What a mess.
But really it is just that we don't know what it
means to be effusive.

However, it seems to me that gifts have been
given prolifically to one and all
Some can talk and some can't.
Some can jaw some haven't
that "on-the-spot" eloquence, that makes me
wish that we could

Chorus