To burn with jealous heart, or not to burn,

I ask the question sinking into glum;

In such emotion deeply drowned, I yearn,

I pray, for skills, like His, to me would come.

This envy pierced my soul, like rolling tear

would leave a trace to mark a saddened face.

As good as him, I’ll never be I fear,

This feeling makes me fall in empty space.

The way you craft your iambs brings us bliss

the rhymes performed by pen you hold to write

are sweet parfum of long awaited kiss;

to be the best, you only hold the right.

So envy come and flame this jealous heart,

ignite the hope to reach his fame and art.