The Poet

You have read that one poem Over morning coffee luke warm Then there was another You read that one too I flaunted yet another in the cold Three in one day Seeking approval Or at least my words to have sway Yet Like a dying a flower Wilted Wrinkled from the inside out Floundering between reality and disillusions The crashing of the empty wine bottle on the floor Like the church bells in the village Announcing the words that seek to run away For many have read the poems As I have opened the garden gate My torment though marches on For I now know deep deep down in the depth Not a soul Has yet to read The poet The graveyard is not so deep