nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

A POET DIED

Battered wings
Cease to fly
Eyes that fade
No longer cry
The purple hue
Of spirits flame
Flickers and dies
Circumstance explain.

The wandering soul
No fixed abode
Travels light
A story told
Within the pages
Of a long lost book
A poet died
A lingering truth.

Its scribbled word
Upon face of time
Upon steaming glass
Is lost the rhyme
The shadow drifts
Room to room
Your passing came
Far too soon.