Sweet nothings are like diamonds: currency
Of love and lovers: gold in every land!
They're worth ten million stars, or rare birds free.
They're to be poured in heaps like so much sand.
But words alone, bereft devoted acts,
Are nothing more than a rank growth of weeds;
So, all in all, let's face the barren facts:
I write good words while others do good deeds.
Some other rose has over time amassed
A treasury of love: despite my rhyme
My star's eclipsed, extinct: the sterile past
Erased and flooded by Grandfather Time.
It's not due to my rhyme that naught succeeds:
I add sweet words too late to bitter deeds.
Copyright 1999 Anissa Nedzel Gage
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