Cyrano

deNeuvillet lipsynched the words by night
Roxanne required to steady her faint heart.
The prose and verse that he could never write,
on loan if he would only play the part.
Rostand's too coy to tell what happens next
she's widowed soon enough, as things unwind.
If court, and war, are metaphors for sex
the meeting he exalts is mind-to-mind.
To call this "melodrama" can't be fair,
when Dinklage lends such life-force to the part.
The alchemy to make a stranger care
by any just assessment must be "art".
As Aphrodite giggles far above
strange rivals couple in the throes of love.