Poetic Men, With No Hearts
The trees be stiff and green,
And though green, do look mean.
In this February, cold sheen.
Alas, it looks as a new born, fresh Spring.
As a lover, who in reality is a mean thing!
With no sweetheart’s song to sing.
Not even a soft bell to ring.
Words of love, oh they do pen!
That mimic arthritic old hens.
These heartless self named, poetic men!
2-16-2022
Copyright © Panagiota Romios | Year Posted 2022
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