`
You have been much more
to many a progressively
ailing heart,
in the eloquence
of whispered words -
watch them alight on
the pages of a poem.
What in the waving
of waxing thought;
words copiously flow
in the effervescent
glow of lilting rhyme -
solitary images
march the desert storm.
Amnesty provides no relief:
no human deed can make amends,
the speed of apologies fail
to out run the steam roller
of resolute demeanour.
Once the balm of intimating breath
now asphyxiates tomorrow's hope.
Put forth in plain speech
what now in riddles present
then lay a poignant wreathe upon
this wailing bardic crypt.
Underneath its gravestone find
wispy embers of yesterdays
awaiting phoenix wings climb.
Hence in its turn let generosity provide
this grievous dagger a sheath to hide.
`