The poet, pathetically <br />Attempting to retrieve the words <br />He spilled onto our minds. <br /> <br />Useless they say, <br />So they shall not have them. <br />Not today, not never. <br /> <br />Not running through your veins <br />The words, are they not? <br />They could not. <br /> <br />For such thing, does not happen <br />Not on these days, <br />No longer happens. <br /> <br />I, I did try, but I was young <br />And such a naïve girl. <br />I would never have guessed. <br /> <br />Words are no longer <br />A reason to live, <br />And poems no longer life. <br /> <br />And so, dies the poet, <br />Along with his children <br />As it should be.<br /><br />A.R. Brixton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-poet-23/
