Ode to Sander Cohen
By Mackenzie Childers
Our muses must be one in the same,
Sander Cohen.
For mine continues to be fickle,
As I try to write these words.
Yet they merely flit by me like moths,
Beautifully luminescent in the dark.
Unlike those ugly insects, The Doubters,
Tricking themselves to believe they are glorious.
By fouling your lovely name,
Sander Cohen.
Those Doubters could never outshine you,
For they are clouded by envy.
Yet, I envy you as well.
Most of all your well earned confidence.
But there are many things I could list,
That twist my heart in awe.
Oh, Sander Cohen.
I could write how your voice seduces the ea
