Now love is not an easy word to use,
for excess talk has torn away its soul.
In cards and letters,we must stand accused;
so where love dwelt,there’s now a widening hole.

And if our language changes, what’s the cost,
when life departs from words that meant so much?
Or is there something permanently lost
when hands and pens have lost the way to touch?

We soon forget what loving used to mean
We change to fit our fractured complex realms
Till we are now as fractured in our schemes
and what once was,seems never to have been.

Yet there’s a remnant found in art and song
Which we can capture if our spirits long.