I tried to be more like Eliot or Frost but you kept pulling me back in.
I tried to rhyme but you blunted all my attempts with your realism.
What’s wrong with roses are red and violets are blue?
It certainly does not have your awesome wonder about it but who does it harm, me or you?
You caught me in your world of harlots and drifters, dock workers and steel workers where there is no place for rhyme.
You have me, I’m yours and like it or not, Mr. Carl Sandburg, you are still very much alive in my time.