And How Poem by Pasquale DiMeola

A poet's word
Was once the spark
Of light..of light
From the cold dark

Like leaves in fall
That fell with grace
An autumn crown
On grassy space

The graying skies
Let in the sun
With cocked arms
Words were the guns

Between the lines
We see quite clear
Another way
For truth to peer

The changing of
Old figureheads
Whose time has come
To put to bed

The poet gives
Their thoughts for free
It's up to you
Of what will be.