Whispers of Immortality

He could paint the air and draw the winds.
Of course that brief eulogy
was only spoken after his demise;
while alive he was often considered a clod and a bore.
Foreseeing no such post-mortem fame
he kept writing on water
knowing that there was an archive of his works
in an after-life waiting to be discovered
by his wandering soul.
In the meantime, ducks quacked, geese honked
and the little birds in his still beating heart
twittered on.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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Hankins Avatar
May 22, 2022 at 1:12 PM
Oh, how I like this poem, Eric. You hit the nail on the head! Good writing!
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