The poet’s curse
by cricketjeff on September 14, 2009. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
A lonely man sits writing in a book
The waitress smiles and brings another tea
He doesn’t pause or raise his eyes to look
But paints her pretty face in poetry
Tomorrow sees the man back on his seat
Unwashed, unkempt and not a civil word
He pays for tea that’s strong and over sweet
Reciting lines that nobody has heard
And day by day he writes her on a page
Her life becomes a story told in verse
His calloused hands transfer his hidden rage
Her laughing voice becomes his fatal curse
The summer ends the cafe’s doors are closed
The book is filled and she is far away
He reads the words he’s carefully composed
One final time one frozen winter’s day
So far away she feels the burning pain
And quickly calls the doctors to her side
Her flesh turns black her spirits seem to drain
In half a day she’s withered up and died
He huddled in his shack against the storm
And burned the book to keep his body warm
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Author notes
English