Your words linger on my lips,
a clear yet troubling voice,
declaring the horrors of Dachau
and unrequited love.
Your portrait loiters within my mind
-that graceful neck and haunting eyes-
subtle beauty with a mouth
seemingly uncommitted to a smile or frown.
Attractive yet troubled,
I can still hear your voice
over distances beyond miles
crying out for recognition and your lost father
-holding out hope that vanished-
one February morning by the oven.
I should say that I have never studied poetry, but I enjoy playing with words. As for Sylvia, maybe my infatuation is like Eldon John infatuation with Marilyn Monroe (who also died in the early 60s). Of course, Mr. John made a fortune with his words and music and then recycled it and made another fortune as he paid homage to a dead princess.