The Hopes Of Forget-Me-Knots Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Prolific as the centipede underneath the castles:
Hero nobody thought of,
No princess loved, with so many legs: dreaming of
Sea horses as giant lovers
He’s heard of but can’t say he’s seen:
Spilling from leaf to leaf over the penny-ante quest:
Can’t say he has a heart to know about love,
But too sick to be eaten by starving birds:
He’ll be a horse for himself and ride over the blue bells and
Buttercups.
The hummingbirds will whisper great disillusions about
This,
As he trundles with the legs of a crowd—by himself,
The eels, like dark amputees in the mud puddles,
Tie the ribbons into knots,
And the leaches kiss the shins of bystanders—trying to
Make sacrifices of the sinless pilgrims who loiter
There—flat areolas twisting like shellfish in a pretentious
Rain,
Travelling with the hopes of forget-me-nots.