The magic of a thought

Is when you use slight of hand.

Masking what you say

By conceiving a words array.

Standing at attention,

Like soldiers at parade.

Are the words used

Whose meaning is disarrayed.

Lost is the meaning,

But understood by some.

Yet I am of the few

That is left in the pew.

I just pass them by,

As if they were never there.

Just call me simple,

Cause I don't give a care.

Webster won't care if

You use his simple words.

Nor will the readers

Who will enjoy its simplicity.