Death of a Poet
On hearing of the death of David Morris

He’s gone.

The words seem impossible to hear
The thought too hard to bear
The loss too great to realize.
Our poet, our leader, our friend has left without us.

Left us with art to make
Wars to win
Friends to comfort
But without him.
Without his help, his kindness, his wisdom, his genius, his passion
His love.

Where are the words to explain it?
Where are the thoughts to make sense of it?
Where is our poet, our leader, our friend?

Gone with the sunrise.
Gone with the East wind.
Gone as the tide turns.

Leaving only love, and silence, behind.

© Ju Gosling aka ju90

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