We May Never Know
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Why would someone yearly toast the birthday
of a poet like Edgar Allan Poe?
And on that day toast his grave the same way,
leave the bottle, three red roses, and go.
The man locals nicknamed, "The Poe Toaster."
in the mid-30s; remains anonymous.
But each Jan.19th, like a morbid poster,
Poe's grave and his toasts were synonymous.
Wearing a white scarf and wide-brimmed hat,
he'd arrive there in the early morning.
But in 2009, stopped, just like that,
and disappeared without any warning.
For 60 years, this phantom toasted Poe,
whether friend or foe, we may never know.
(Sonnet)
9/20/2018
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2018
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