The Rainbow Kid
Doesn't know he is dead
Yet he writes no more poetry
But death
Not melancholy
Dragged him away
But he still sits beside my bed
Whispers in my ear....
Of the Old South, and old dogs
Sports jackets, his Mama
The silver thimble and the Medicine jar.
All night he begs me
To read aloud.
Dedicated to Steve Lail
1944-1998
Who was the Rainbow Kid? Go here to read more: Steve Lail -aka- The Rainbow Kid
