Words

I'm rather good with words,
Actually. 

An essay could be tapped out
Last minute and given to be marked,
Always, somehow,
Resulting in some satisfaction
And that smile. 
A joke can create itself in my mind
Prompted by something small,
Forming and twisting linguistically
To inspire fond laughs
Or maybe that smile. 

Give me pen and paper,
And ask me to write. 
Ask me to sketch you rolling hills,
White cliffs and sunshine in a canvas of words. 
I'll certainly try,
Maybe eventually admire the result,
Knowing that I've done that setting some sort of
Justice. 

But show me that smile
And words are the last thing on my mind. 

Show me that smile
And I'll throw aside the pen
In favour of his hand. 

The End

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