…And there is no room in the world for the sentimental.

No earthly place in which to stack the memories

upon high, layer upon layer like bricks laid out

on a spring morning in which to build an annexe.

 

Move on, like a fluttering unfeeling butterfly

already in the sights of the patient entomologist,

letting go of the nightly moth in his paw like grip

and ready to pin you down.

 

I will not but be sentimental, to be romantic,

certainly emotional and perhaps at times flowing