(For Robin Young)

A voice and mind of genuine genius
Singing wonderful word songs of paper and prose
A bird in flight with rhythmic wings
This is my tribute to that singular voice

His wit and wry wondered the world
Verses of joy and woe torn together
A jester of juxtaposition,
And a tailor of towering word-smithy

While his pen no longer sings on the paper anvil,
We still hear his words
For he was carpe diem incarnate!
Royal bird.

He has winged to Elysium,
To write odes and sonnets with the ancient masters,
Homer, Plato, and Sappho
He, Robin the Rhymer