Robin Poem by Michael Shutt

Robin

What is it now?

About a month?

Just four short weeks
that passes like
a day,

Yet cruelly seems
so long?

Eternity in
31.

The clock
ticks on.

And those
you left behind
shall n e'er again
laugh quite as loud.

Or see ourselves
the same way through
your wizened eyes.

Our upturned lips
will never have the lilt

That sharing
through your
crooked grin

And, in sharing,

Our grins
turned crooked too.

Sweet solace,

Mixed with
Laughter,

Tears.

Dear Robin.

God.

In dark of night,

Your joy,

Your heartache

always brought us through.

But what of You?

We cant imagine
what you went through-

The crawl
to Darkness
from the Light.

What led you to
the stepping through
life's foul
and final curtain.

You went off script.

But then,
You always did.

But this Improv,
Old Friend,

shocked in a way
you never thought
it would.

Your brilliant
Stream of Consciousness
led you down
a prim rose
path of pain.

And Joy
and Genius
ended in
a lonely knot
of leather.

Carpe Diem.

I guess
you seized it, Chief.

We only pray
you found
some peace-

And sweet surcease,

Oh Captain.

Oh,

My Captain.