Nine years ago, this poem attracted one comment, from my dear friend and grammar coach since 1965, Willie. I decided it wanted pictures, something glowy and something definitive. This is glowy:
Melting points
Make crystal relax.
At 98 degrees,a
Human may be
Drawn like a
A wave over years.
Tungsten takes 6000.
Dreams stream off.
Where do they go?
What current causes
Them to glow?
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are our elders' existential 21st century "Godot"!
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And now for something definitive: