When a poem comes alive
I might be like Pygmalion
Not sharing her with anyone
Gently adoring her all my life
Yet, relieved from her laces
Doesn't a poem's magic lie
In that through the reader's eye
She may reveal her many faces?
So I charily hand her over
To the public domain
As however much I love her
It would be a thoughtless sin
Not letting you discover
What I never did put in
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 10:32 PM UTC
When a poem comes alive
I might be like Pygmalion
Not sharing her with anyone
Gently adoring her all my life
Yet, relieved from her laces
Doesn't a poem's magic lie
In that through the reader's eye
She may reveal her many faces?
So I charily hand her over
To the public domain
As however much I love her
It would be a thoughtless sin
Not letting you discover
What I never did put in
