Gazing at fragility,
The words of dead poets,
I weep in a bookstore.
Lonely childhood room
Reading Catcher in the Rye
Never leaves me.
I’m at home in autumn
Among the barren trees,
The windswept life
Blows away my love.
Uriah Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-words-of-dead-poets/
