A poet lives and lives again
The life that dreamers dream
Immortality isnt far
Its just beyond this scene
He will leave this world sure
And move on to the next
But as he goes
He leaves behind
His self inside his text
His days were seemingly numbered
But overcome by written word
Always to be remembered
As he is always heard
And so the story is told
Of a poet died long ago
But everything we didnt see
Hes here to let us know
His body buried
His pen collecting dust
But a poet will never die
He lives in all of us
Very well done. I see life as a series of encounters with people including ourselves. If our poetry lives on, it extends this series of encounters and who knows what the impact might be.
