The Most Forgotten Of Forget-Me-Nots Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Embittered dungeons milking themselves,
With all of the monsters in them,
Not one coral snake,
Not one way out of here—
The hero, a diminutive sort,
Can see the cheerleads a bouncing
And playing of sports—
All happily chested and taking for
Granted the beautiful weather in which
They were planted—
And never hearing the laughing children
Across the rosy bay—
As the night settled itself that it was in
Love with the day—
And our hero sat and pondered not
One jot—
And his thoughts lingered upon the trails
Of not one never a thought—
And the dungeon stretched just as it
Did; yes, it hid for miles beneath—
Forever it hid—
And he stood there just as cool as a
Spring day—
As the lights fell across him, but
Never he may—go one farthing further—
No further he did—
As the sunlight beckoned upon his unopened
Lid—
The monsters in love growled from
Beneath—
But forever, he thought, his sword would
Be sheathed—
And sheathed so it was,
Never married was he—
But made his bright home under the brightest
Of trees, because it was the best place,
It was—and no one could argue that—
And the nights came as cool
As a smiling cat—
Until one day he did—he ventured a jot—
And in that moment he did,
And became the very epitome of the most
Forgotten of forget-me-nots.