Irving

Irving,
I just read your verse.
Where are you
composing now?
Your words remain
and echo on the page .
What fine voice,
and what fine mind,
and what a heart
worthy of a
pharaoh or a king .
That fine voice,
that fine mind,
and the passion
In your heart,
with all its’ many lovers,
resided in
an old age home,
in a mental haze,
In your final days .
I can only hope
you had a garden
In the sun
there .

From “Ruminations of the Dead” by PWChaltas