My villanelle is better sung in words
The tune can be invented as we hum
I sing of love and flowers and summer birds
The gift of language springs from sounds we heard
Mother,father, sister here they come
My villanelle is sweeter sung in words
There is also hatred,love deferred.
Intimacy’s pains are now well known
Why sing of love and flowers and summer birds?
To control my own black heart I am prepared
For seeds with hatred watered too well grow
My villanelle is made to growl in words
From the News much evil has been shared
Yet goodness and true virtue can be shown
So sing of habits loved and high flown birds
Practise love until your skills are honed
Accept your hate but let it not be shown
My villanelle is better sung in words
Sing of love and hate and how we dare
How my heart sings 