The Rose Doesn'T Wither
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Leslie Alexis
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Why do poets feed on sorrow (and darkness)
That none is greater than Poe
Who perfected the woe;
Why is it this way?
That even in my own
It is easy to slip
And get trapped in pity
That is windblown
And dry to its final form
That quickly becomes normal
And smiles as words conform
To this mediocrity of life
Why do we, words' sculptors,
Forget the rose doesn’t wither
When captured in a picture...
Copyright ©2011 Leslie Alexis
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