michael was a poet
from the moment he arrived
taking all that he was given
and putting it to rhyme

holding to the certainty
on the day that he was born
michael would take it all in hand
and live it out in poem

he would fill his days with laughter
letting sadness have the night
as it came in bits and pieces
in the poetry he would write

there were those that never understood
what brought his thoughts to mind
beyond the space he was living in
on another plain in time

dipping often in the rhythm
as his tide would ebb and flow
michael was a poet
and that's all he's ever known