A Memorial

 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.