With The Silence That Evaporates Poem by Robert Rorabeck

With the silence that evaporates the cars from their houses—
It inaugurates these congregations of misspellings the frogs
Are serenading,
So I don't suppose you know a single bit of my love—
Even though it seems to last forever, and has been about you
For so long—until eventually even the yellowness echoes
In evaporations and the sunlight has nowhere else to go—
The last pools of it remain in the mispronounced ivy
Of narrow-minded bachelors until they are too
Drunk with shame and liquor to see—
And even though my love has never found out, I still
Wake up every morning and teach your children—
Anonymous mispronunciations across the day light graveyards
Whose sadness is drowned by the daylight that is too blinded to see.