ABOUT ROGER MY SON NOW GONE
He came at us in surprise
we too late know this warrior, soul poet,
for poets feel and feel becomes them
and from them their people come to
see more than they expected from anyone
a warrior, yes, against all odds, seeking and
slaying all odds with a smile and a wink
He came to me last night in a Starshine
and this evening he came with a smallest
Rabbit stance staring into woods and gardens,
proud, twitchy mostly unseen, they said he made them
better, in the starshine and more than enough but
not me, sometimes there in stasis but never
there rightly and wrongly…yet and still he enthralled
the throng, young, old, pedants and believers, all
drawn to the serious and to the silly, still laughing
But where has he gone now, where the likes of him
gather, but I don’t think he’d stop there, I think gatherers more
like come to him at least as they seem to have seen it
so we feel this known Soul Poet, but what of the Warrior,
the fighter of fleeting kerfuffles but now the big one
we know he was keen to and sought at least in tone, and
sought summarily as then we thought…but no not now,
no more that chance…but still we know he would and could
his Soul Poet let us know that for all time now wrapped in virtue and love.
