The Old Poet
Her ink has dried, her stories spun
On distant shores, her songs are sung
Her words still dance, around the flame
Of burning memories, that brought her fame
Tho weak and frail, at this late hour
Her words of strength, still hold their power
Each time her verse is read aloud
Her converts gather, now quite a crowd
Knowing well, her time will end
Content, her words, we all depend
© All Rights Reserved
02/25/11
7:53pm
Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2011
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