Sue Mason
Does she still come here
The seasoned philosopher and pen
That chart so will the flesh's crumbling
In easy ecstasy of words?
She had a way, using colors like nouns
That lived and breathed like us
Listen when she describes dust
For her pen is a wand touching words
To become anything she wants them to be
Perhaps she hoped each word would drain
The fountain of her pain
But that leave her bravery no podium
To stand upon for love's encomium
I am thinking of you today, Sue
As poet and person,
Hoping time has not worn out
The last bit of you
And this memory on your leaf
Will fetch a fresh sparkle of dew.
Copyright © L'Nass Shango | Year Posted 2010
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