Spell (for You)

Though I feel confident to spell
And do such things as words demand
To draw my dreams before they die
One thing I never understand
But notice how and wonder why
I find my fingers feel all thumbs
And I feel stupid truth to tell
Facing figures summoned by sums
Beyond what I can count by hand
As syllables of poetry
Which soar yet never seem too high

These are the figures I can face
They seldom are more than fourteen
Or less than four or in-between
Fourteeners and in-betweeners
Pentameter and ballad-rhyme
If you know me you know I mean
I count these all day all the time
With my self-confidence in place

Yet when such mathematics comes
As figures the fiduciary
I hide and wait for it to go
Since it could not have come for me
Avoiding like an evil spell
No matter who thinks what is true
That which I have no hope to know
In favor of that which I do
To draw my dreams before they die
Whose numbers lift me to the sky
To speak these words I spell (for you)

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMVIII