A small tribute to a great man
He closed his eyes and felt the rushing air,
the whispered secrets of his ebbing tide.
Sweet fingers brushed his sparse and scanty hair;
His errant spirit fled, his body died.
Then what majestic visions filled his view,
what brilliant stars to light him on his way.
His soul set free, in lofty spiral flew,
leaving behind a useless hulk of clay.
Winging his way across celestial heights,
travelling onwards in a heavenly sea;
Marvelling at the wonder of such sights,
he claims his portion of Eternity.
© By Thomas Vaughan Jones (TVaughanJones@aol.com)