Ernesto P. Santiago Poet Lyric

Salacious Poet, For a Bitter Muse

I have admired many, so often, and 
wondered for whom they used to write 
their muses; if not for their lovers, then 
for whom? A poet like me who loved

them for great things. Ah, I know—
a different thought, a different 
style, but not that much concerns 
me, awhile, but the smile in you 

that beamed like magenta moon and 
lured strollers to kiss the twilight night, 
until it dimmed away, so were you, 
ditching the one you loved.  Having 

dazed in the stolen memoirs of 
spring that was mine, I know now— 
admiration, sometimes, if not always has 
a bitter ending…in a poet’s lonely page!

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