Something Beautiful Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All the tourists are making spectacle of your
Coffin,
And even the politicians are overhead spending the
Tax payers money on beautiful flowers,
Corpulent and well hung
And making even the deepest-bayed airplane in
Danger of digging trenches,
But for once I don’t blame them,
Though I know you aren’t really dead,
But just hibernating, and getting even fairer in your season:
Soon your usual prince will be waking you up,
And cooking you dinner,
And then you might yawn light a fish nibbling between
The forest of deep stemmed orchids,
Your fingers splaying along the ribbons of your insouciant
Child,
But I should like to start a revolution for you all the same;
I could be your breakfast- I would nourish your
Unconsciousness with a steaming broth of forget-me-nots;
And I would bring the paper in to you,
And dig out your car from the snow: I could fetch anything
For you I put my mind to,
But let me begin by trying to say something beautiful.