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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=340788" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Swansong</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Look! The aging poet sleepwalks again.”<br>“Sir, should we wake him from his nightly tour? ”<br>“No! God no! His heart could not stand the strain.”<br>“He’s heading for the open study door.<br>His ambulant steps on the floorboards creak<br>With every step along the corridor.”<br>“Listen! The bard is beginning to speak.<br>Let’s heed his words, step softly on the floor.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Where do you lead me<br>Erato? Oh! The study<br>What for may I ask? ”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He sits at his desk with his pen in hand<br>Writing vigorously on a tablet<br>Almost as if it were by some command.<br>His outline cast a dreamy silhouette<br>On the study wall caused by the moonbeam<br>Shinning through a curtained opened window.<br>“He writes with eyes closed in his dream”<br>“Be still! He calls out the name, Erato”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Erato, you say<br>This love poem is my last? <br>How so, may I ask? ”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The poets hand stops writing a moment<br>Than briefly begins again then desists<br>Completely; lays the pen down and laments<br>While rising from his chair clenching both fists<br>Then begins to walk toward his bedroom<br>“Should we read what the old bard has written? ”<br>“Not now! Let’s follow him back to his room<br>“But...” “Please keep quiet! He speaks once again.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Erato I have<br>Finished what you asked of me<br>This is my swansong.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old poet reached the side of his bed<br>And gently slid under the bed covers<br>A smile appears than wanes. “Is the bard dead? ”<br>“Yes! He’s gone where all the poet lovers’<br>Always go: with the lovely Erato”<br>“I hear a lyre! Do your ears hear the same? ”<br>“Yes! It plays for another poet’s soul<br>That enters Erato’s love poems domain”<br>*******************************</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Standing at the old poets study desk<br>The two men look down upon the tablet<br>And begin to read the verses expressed<br>This saddest of nights both will not forget</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My Swansong<br>In life all things must always reach its end<br>My life is no exception to this rule<br>True love was writing verses with this pen<br>And know for sure I had not been a fool<br>Love was all I had to offer in life<br>Expressed in many forms of poetry<br>Each I shared with my friends and loving wife<br>Intent was never a commodity<br>My time has come; the flame of life grows dim<br>And everything I have seen in this light<br>Was through the eyes of love I owe to Him<br>My hand grows weak, my effort ebbs tonight<br>I see your face, your myrtle crown and lyre<br>You strum the strings, sweet music to my ears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Albert+Ahearn">Albert Ahearn</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=340788" data-title="Swansong de Albert Ahearn" data-description="“Look! The aging poet sleepwalks again.”
“Sir, should we wake him from his nightly tour? ”
“No! God no! His heart could not stand the strain.”
“He’s heading for the open study door.
His ambulant steps on the floorboards creak
With ..."></div>
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