Monday, January 4, 2010

Haunting Henry

He haunts me long and he haunts me loud
With many a day in between,
His words paint a picture proud
Of life ever so so keen.

He describes how to live a life so rich
Yet he drank his life away,
His stanzas were almost perfect pitch
Yet now, at the end of the day.

His eye I try to capture
Within the scene before me,
The sumptious details I note with rapture
While seeking refrains so free.

For Henry found that level of ne'er may care,
As he scribbled his many lines,
With Bishop Barkers his soul laid bare,
His words upon our life still shines.