A Scenic Cliché

A Range of mountains,
Covered by a sheet of snow, which
runs down like an angel spreading its wings, of
which I'm sure, you do have seen before.

And alas! No wonder,
there is a river that
emerges from the bottom
of the underworld which
is unheard of, uncalled for,
but still, not unknown.

Oh, I still wonder,
if the heavens know,
how much I flout the platitudes,
how much I despise the banalities.
But pinched under utter sarcasm,
I find myself admiring the beauty of
A Scenic Cliche