Atkin-James I need new things to tell her That won't seem so awkwardly shy I'm pretending to be strong and silent So hard that it's violent And plainly a lie I need new words to fight with That win me far more than a smile A sentence that glitters and dances For my steely glances Miss out by a mile I hear the wits' winning ways all around me Sweet nothings that ring the right bell But their ease with a phrase is beyond me Nipped in the bud, dried in the well I need a gift to give her That talks for me when I'm not there And explains how the poems that start out By eating my heart out are lost on the air