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Poetry's Last Breath

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Your Grace, Your Majesty,
For you have fallen before my eyes.
You made yourself famous to all humanity,
But now, nobody cares for you, nobody tries.

Your jewels are no longer encrusted in your crown,
And when people see you, your music does not play.
Even when they hear your words, people just frown,
For that’s not what they listen to nowadays.

Remember that Shakespeare?
He gave you glory so high like a kite.
But now we must all agree, my dear,
That your death is clearly in sight.

And so with sorrow, I bid you adieu.
There will never be another as lovely as you.



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