Songbird left lonely in summertime,
Even through death you still shine
Because there’s nothing left of you
But the recorded sound of your soul
Pouring out of you like a wounded angel.
The woman who was Leonard’s muse
Died a lonely death on a dirty floor,
Unfitting and undeserved for one such as her.
©Charlie F. Kane
4/02/08
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Charlie (aka Charles Foster Kane?) - Who is Leonard? And the women who were his muses?