...and as the words stop flowing
the poet lays down the pen
as in life there's no way of knowing
if it'll be picked up again

with a break in the connection
of the electricity in poem
winter cold in all directions
weather outside of the norm

over earths plains there comes a silence
taking the breath from out the wind
nature and poet no longer join in the dance
that held them tight within

with a dryness to the pages
no longer dipping in nor out the well
this will go down in the ages
as the day the poet fell...