Posted in Free Verse

With Thanks To A Gentle Poet

As a poet wanna-be,
I spent my youth
in raptured silence,
traveling through your words.
My bookcase was filled
with your hardbound reflections.

When growing up meant being cool,
your passions were abandoned,
left to sit on a dusty shelf
as I grew into my life
and out of yours.

Age would bring me back
to Stanyan Street,
where all of your comfort
and tenderness
would welcome me home.

Crafting singular words
into an echo of memories
would have been impossible
had I never met you
and discovered the need
to listen to the warm.

© Susan Schoeffield

Written in tribute to Rod McKuen (April 29, 1933-January 29, 2015)

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