L Milton Hankins
The streets of Soup Creek are now somber and dark.
We have lost a fellow poet, but never his spark.
Lewis Milton Hankins, spent 81 heartfelt years on this earth.
I will mourn with those who mourn and rejoice for his birth.
He was a first-class poet and a first-class friend.
People like Milton, are a definite godsend.
He said what he meant and meant what he said.
His lips spoke the truth and they never misled.
He was gifted with the arts, it thrived in his blood.
He will forever be in Jenna’s, at a table dealing stud.
In Soup Creek we are immortal, our spirit will never die.
A Poet’s words are magic and always free to fly.
For each word spoke and every poem read.
The poet will live on because their words are never dead.
I’ll sign off for now and bid this Poet my final farewell.
As for the gambler in Soup Creek, there will be no death knell.
Copyright © Mark Koplin | Year Posted 2022
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