When all is said and done it’s just a word.
And all the time and all the tears you spend
On quotes and notes can only be absurd
When it’s only just one word in the end.
But yet, is’t not in words that dreams are made?
In words young lovers love, and tyrants rage,
And though the men that spoke them, wrote them, fade,
In soft mellifluous prose upon a page,
They die not. And in our Xbox days
Between the blogs and tweets and likes and shares,
We read, then through their verse and prose and plays
Then we, for one brief breath, are Shakespeare’s heirs
And so, while quotes and notes are vainly nursed,
There’s many words in that so fleeting ‘First’.