I once meet a woman long ago, she captured my heart. It was her passion of playing with words that caught me. We soon met and began, what didn’t last long. I swore there would be no other when we exchanged rings, I meant it. I am not sure what happened to her, but for years I did not give up hope. The choice was hers and I had trouble compiling with her wish. To her I was a stocker. That I became. I stock the shelves where I work. I am a stocker. But if you come to the plumbing department and need help in finding unions, I might just teach you also about nipples, males, females, couplings, and more. For it requires much love for words, that’s right, one word, LOVE. Without love you just won’t get it. I may have been the lesser one, but she gave me something I cherish, the beginning of passion for words. When she asked for a love poem, I told her, “I can’t write poetry”. With a serious and loving tone, she said, “yes you can, you have a muse”. I did not know what she meant, nor did I ask. I did however give it my best shot, and soon found out how to listen to thought. My LOVE grows every day, and I continue to write as I go. I have been through what I call hell, and have survived, healing more in LOVE. Soon more will be revealed, my life. It contains a past, present and peek into the future, where I become one, spinning round, a speck of life in this world we live. I am not the greatest of all; I am only an instrument that loves to play. Come play with me, and you might see, I don’t cheat. I LOVE SCRABBLE.