Immortality
The poet dies, but does not die
if he has left a line
black inked upon enduring page
or lingered on the mind.
With no thought than to see it grow,
the gardener plants a tree,
his immortality assured,
by shade for posterity.
A way to prove that we were here,
a child in whom, our truths appear.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
