Monday 21 February 2011

Another poem

He came to death, or did it come to him
Who can tell how life dims.
So many years tidied into files
Interred in stout boxes
Parchments of faded letters
Documents yellowed by time
Survive his reservoir of bones
Despatched in brown paper
Gifted to his Alma Mater
Giving eons of PhD data.

No comments: