Michael Coy Poet Rhyme

For Elise

I wrote these humble verses for Elise.
For all my weeping, all my yearning,
I have no real possessions - only these.
And now, the dying leaves are turning
from youthful green to ocher on the trees,
my heart, all shallow comfort spurning,
is calling through the twilight for Elise.

I wrote these verses, weeping for Elise.
Swallows, to the South returning,
are borne off on the autumn's sobbing breeze
and, looking up, a soul is burning -
I long to soar with them, across the seas,
but cannot watch without discerning
some part of me which hopes, yet, for Elise.

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