Now is the winter of my heart’s joy
Mad extra by this word smith’s ploy.
And all the past’s love loved,
Is now shattered and false is proved.
I loved Shakespeare’s Hamlet
And my heart yearned for a poet.
So why then, dream dreamless
Before I am lifeless
My house is a true definition
of beauty and brains;
None but the rapid ecstatic words
Where rhymes paint the walls
And synecdoches are the support polls.
I live in an anthology-house,
Full of repetitions and personifications,
After all, I loved a poet.