An old poet lived in a dusty room
Cold, quiet, dark and gloom

In his mind, to heaven he flew away
Promising himself to return one day

Under an olive tree he embraces his wife
As if it was the first time of his life

Smiling as his boys call him from afar
No more wondering where they are

Holding on to breath and regardless of pain
He forced himself to go back down again

Climbing back to reality with a rope
Wishing for one last teardrop of hope

Half way down tired of his quest
Decides it is time to finally rest

A lonely poet lived in a lonely room
Little did they know it was merely a tomb