Dear Dead Poet
by James McLain
People are saying all kinds of things about you now..
mostly good...Sitting wondering looking at every thing
nothing.Trapped inside what others think.
They have made a lot of money from you they being
them you know who..they come around when we die.
I was speaking to Mr.Poe the other day he gave me
your number now don't you cry..we all get lonely in time
not immortal we try...Shortening though mirrored few words
a smile I see now across your lips..yes it has been a while
me to..I know, had they given to you that which was yours
would we even be now as we are conversing..your hat
and dress look nice..Well I still have some few problems
of my own..words grow scare as was the wheat that
you grew for a horse one it was that very few knew that
you had..well...I will let you get back to that place we all
know so well..The bright heavens night and all it's great
glory to shine for a while as is your smile till we sleep the
great sleep few do have...
affectionately it is remains,
close to you
wants to go for a buggy ride.