The poet closed his book tonight, for him there was no choice
The words that held such comfort and that gifted golden voice
have left the way they entered, no winged entourage
Just the man, his gift, his truth and his talent fully charged.
The author wrote his final line, the words that held our sway
dripped off the page and vanished, on this broken battered day
His muse went on ahead, he bade farewell just months before
One gets the feeling that, for him, she left an open door
The singer sang his last today, he moved me when he spoke
The timbre of those vocals full of whiskey, aged and smoked
The songs are epitaphs of love, of passion and of sex
each line would leave us wondering, joyous and perplexed
The inspiration left me when I heard the news today
The talent that sustained me on those cold and lonely days
has finally faded from my view fell silent to my ears
it leaves behind a crooked smile behind the selfish tears
Genius fell quiet today, and the world’s a sadder place
and singers 'round the world all know no-one will take his place
You’re the friend I never met although we always got along
So thank you for the memories, the music, and the songs
©Keith Hancock 2016