Closure

Alert in his chair With his walker at hand Deaf and lost in fine words without end He’s surrounded by poets long dead In walls full of shelves full of books full of lines he’s all read Sitting in silence with all his old friends Reliving his life in his head Close to a hundred and sharp as a tack His memories fonder each day He measures the moments and uses them well Carefully as is his way Keeping his company under the spell Of a poetry reading gourmet As a writer I’m glad I met Ray