Story of a Poem

Old man loved poems 
was no secret, that he used to tell
everyone in pomp; was
what I didnt know.
He was all rhyme and rhythm,
a whisper now and a 
bellow's hiss, all in one and 
all too soon.
The lady, but preferred stories,
long and short ones,
with or without middle or ends, while
"once upon a time" often used to ring a bell.
Poetry is gone, mostly unread and hardly heard.
Only story remains and often cries in memory of
those verses unsaid and unread.
Thats all I now have to say, of 
a book thats half read which
no longer has an end that says
then they lived happily ever after...



Published in the online poetry journal High On Poems on 8 Sep 2015.