Hearing you cry twice

I thought of rats and mice.

 

You live in my heart

Inspiring my art.

In Shakespeare’s Macbeth

Your cry portended death.

 

 

When I hear your cry

I know I too must die.

 

 

But perhaps you and I

Will find in rhyme a kind

Of immortality –

 

 

Though, in the graveyard plot

It matters not.