I can't easily decipher
words
lyrics
attitudes
emotions.
I sit in my fog
and wonder.
And in your magic,
there lie the reflection
the key
that I had been searching
for.
In your mystery,
lay the quiet twinkle
and glimmer
of a silent memory,
that huddled in the alcoves
of my melancholy mind.
And in your stories,
I discovered the
yellow brick road,
what I though was made
of asphalt,
but not.
And in your absence,
I see no Emerald City,
no gleaming gates,
just a long expanse of nothing.
"Let there be light,
let there be hope,
let you rest."
they said
and curled you
into the ground,
with that final lament.
This poem is about my director, who died last year. His name was Mr. Wright (note the title).