Words wander out the nib of my pen
They seldom listen to me,
Always busy lining up with their friends
That`s where they`re happy to be.

If I move them around they just make a mess
Then a poem I never can write,
I get fed up with the lot of them
And push every one out of my sight.

But they always return, they are so slow to learn
Whether they are enormous or small,
I tell them each day I wish nicely they`d play
It`s equal rights in my poems for all.