(Just a little sad poem for the quixotic few)
~Lessen in Value~
Poetry I wish is what I want to write,
Of life or death or fire in the moonlight,
But never words of flair I find are there;
I may wind up in a long starry eyed stare.
Love and hate and there at heavens gate,
Where are those words. I need...too late.
Poetry I wish is what I want to write, of
Cool springs and greens and human insight.
But for me that word is where I wither.
And here I sail alone down flounder river.
As depth is never bound nor darkness sound,
These words too are bound to never be found.
When finally played out I am, and placed deep
Into the ground...do not leave not even a mound.
~Jack Henry Kraven~