Words,
. . . Stroked with the best of intentions
Still risk,
. . . Devastating consequences
A term of endearment
. . . Betrayed by a kiss
Destruction and ruin
. . . The result of the meaning missed
Words can be weapons
. . . When carelessly wielded by hands
Scars can run deep
. . . When meaning, we misunderstand
A man may be betrayed
. . . But not by a friend
Like a brother, they are loyal
. . . Faithful to the end
Would you stand for a comrade
. . . Though the heavens fall
Believe only the best
. . . Through the worst of it all
There is so much to be said
. . . Friend to friend
But so very few words
. . . With which to contend
. . . And even far less time
My friend,
. . . I'd fall on my sword, my pen
. . . Before I stroked one word of
injury
. . . To my comrade, my friend
I could use a million words,
. . . To express how I feel inside
Still,
. . . A million words could never
convey
. . . All that is spoken
. . . In the week of an eye
. . . A week between friends
©steve-
©steve-
S