November 1953 -- February 2016
In Loving Memory
I did not have to see the face to know the heart,
or hear the voice to feel the words.
Enough it was that forests bloomed
and rivers flowed where 'ere your
magic pen would go;
and faeries, elves and others too
rose from the page when 'ere the chance,
filled all the world with joyous dance.
Then on the night you fell asleep
they did not waste the time to weep,
instead they gazed up to the sky,
smiled as a light came by and by;
and chorused 'look a new born star,
see how it shines from so afar.'
and knew, as we all surely do,
'twas you dear poet, truly you.
Rebecca Jane Munday. © March 2016.
painting by Willowdown © 2011
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