Recalling past years
He would talk into the moon
Sink some coffee
Carnation and Apostle spoon
Spider webs strung on the walls
Old stories
White gulls crying
Daybreak soon
I slept on my elbows
He told his tales

A chain of Black Cats smouldering
Staining his fingernails
Told me of Pavlova, Chekhov, Berlin and Brecht
He handed me a photo
His wife on a sailing boat's deck

A fallen leaf in Winter
An artist, a shot down star
He resembled one of his paintings
A vagabond from travels afar
His face, yellow
Against the cobalt blue of the bed
A monk at peace and sleeping still
An escapee from dread
Somewhere a dancer
Steps on a starry floor
The music is silver birdsong
A light glows from behind a door
The dancer becomes the music
He becomes the stars in the floor
Opens the door
Becomes the light
The light lasts forevermore

Everything in his room
Had turned to gold with age
Dusting of a manuscript
Reading from the fading page
Truth, hope, passion
Anger, love, despair
Like hungry birds free'd from a cage
His words would fill the air
Goodbye Chapel Street
I remember you from Seventy Nine
A place by the sea
A catch of dreams
Caught by the painted line

The doctor said it was cancer
René just said it was time
Time for a graceful exit
Told in a letter's last line
The season of darkness is changing
To the season of rebirth and rhyme
''Waiting for new creation"