The poet's words
fall wasted
like snowflakes
melting
in
midair.
Such sensuous flattery
must be
disingenuous or
for
someone
else.
Doesn't he know
romance died
with Poe
and
yesterday's
long
stem
roses?
Somebody please
tell him
that Poe
and
Byron
are
dead,
forgotten.
Your title is enchanting. And the rest of your poem does not disappoint. Words, like snowflakes, have eternal value. At least in this poets mind. Take care. Warmest regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
like snowflakes all poets are different...no-one like Poe though...I like to think great writing will never be forgotten, but each to his own.