They are a flock that sought to
flap their beaks and laugh about you
to rush the sun and moon to outshine you,

But it is your heart my mind climbs to
the summit of your art I aspire to
to understand and devour you
jealously guarding what is inside of you
as the grandest treasured truths they are.

So, I confide in you, or at least your words
loving each syllable and swollen verse
with the eloquence of the poetry you displayed
sweet as the sugary snack cakes
that will certainly take me away someday.

However, you have already faded that way,
bloated purloined purse that was once
filled with jewels, gold, silver, and copper coins,
now you are the plaything of many mausoleums
a thousand empty stone rooms
that claim the sweet perfume
of your decaying essence.

Still in my mind you are the omnipresence of
my first and last love.