Drowned Poet

Bless my hallowed halls of ivy
Where a new world I'd see
And a better man I'd be
With ideas to set me free,
Then, after I had run the course
They made a poet out of me.

He drowned in some old
Water hole one day,
Never found him,
- but his poetry -
His poetry is here to stay.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2007 Alfred Charasz