We heard someone playing, "The Look of Love," --
I said, "That's my favorite song,"

Then she replied, "Believe it or not,
It was mine 'til someone did me wrong,"

Intrigued beyond measure -- a glimpse of a tale,
I asked, "How did that come to be?"

She smiled somewhat wistfully, shrugged and related
This poignant story to me,

"As a girl, I was fond of writing love poems,
Even hoped they would someday be published --

Sent some of them to an ostensible publisher --
Released the rights, but my hopes were demolished,

Those fly-by-night chiselers just wanted money --
Got my works and kept them on the shelf,

About ten years later, I wished that I'd kept them
And had tried to publish them myself,

One poem had become, 'The Look of Love' --
I'd know that sentiment anywhere,

Those songwriters constantly sift through old poetry --
Bilk us, but it's done without a care."

-$- Author's note: A true story -$-

by D. Edgar Murray 02/12/2000.