Letdown

For who’s so dumb they cannot write to thee?

A perfect muse if ever one was born.

The one so dumb might easily be me,

but what you’ll never read you cannot scorn.

I went to our museum, saw a gem

The whisky colour boasted by your eyes

a Cairngorm in a Georgian diadem;

the kind of ostentation you despise.

I thought it wouldn’t do for imagery

so took a walk along a beachy strand,

sure I would find some floating artistry;

and then I saw you with her hand-in-hand.

I felt a pressure lift, a great weight gone;

No need for this poetic marathon!

If you liked this poem you might like: I still have nothing to compare to your eyes, a different take on the same problem!

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