The poet, pathetically br Attempting to retrieve the words br He spilled onto our minds. br br Useless they say, br So they shall not have them. br Not today, not never. br br Not running through your veins br The words, are they not? br They could not. br br For such thing, does not happen br Not on these days, br No longer happens. br br I, I did try, but I was young br And such a naïve girl. br I would never have guessed. br br Words are no longer br A reason to live, br And poems no longer life. br br And so, dies the poet, br Along with his children br As it should be.br br A.R.