They Say

Approaching The Cup

Poets, musicians, painters,
They say you’ve had them all;
Tenors in the parlor,
Piano in the hall,
Admiration braved
Framed on the wall.
Though there’s one darling,
One lip-starved starling,
You favored over all.
A heart, in love, you loved 
To teach to fall
More than the rest,
To grade the beast 
Inside his chest.
Poets, muscians, painters,
You held their every call…
And though the one you held best
Is lost, you are not lost,
Not a little, not at all.