A Poet Is Dead

the stars cry rivers of light as the moon bows his head the planet pauses in prayer a laureate is now dead words of wisdom were let fly from the heart of mind and soul to the pages we now read in our minds she will forever stroll a life lived without any fear as seen in poetry and prize and the truth of each line is still in earth, it will rise from the wisping dust she rose poverty was the cloak she wore with the passing of the years she shredded it off some more a technicolour warrior for peace with hope enough for the world she scribed her name on eternity in heavens arms she’s curled so the stars will continue to cry the moon still bows his head these prayers will be ongoing we grieve that a poet is dead