Oeuvre

Times are hard in this current life,

The pain, the anger, the continual strife.

Leaving us heartbroken-

Upon the knife.

Able to hear the words unspoken,

Of a beloved, a darling wife.

People require a new light in the night,

Land on the sea of which they might sight.

They need hope-

Strength to fight.

Something to bring them back up the slope,

Perhaps a verse? Shining bright.

It was in your work that I found relief,

Your voice pushing on to me sweet belief.

We will survive-

No more grief.

Into your poems I sought to dive,

To swim among the poetically golden reef.

Telling me tales of the beautiful Annabel Lee,

Truly understanding the love she felt for thee.

Like lost Lenore-

Music to me.

The pure love I adore,

Through it, restored to life I seem to be.

It seems to me you always knew,

Among your peers there would be few.

Few to write-

Few to sight.

The mighty vessel to carry you into the night,

The vessel upon which you flew,

That flew into evermore

To return, ‘ah nevermore’.