Remembered Dead Poem by Mark Heathcote

To be amongst these remembered dead
That is enough honour for me, foe or friend.
Eyes of crystal, souls of glass,
When they've long gone; alas laid to rest.
What is there left to still, embrace that lasts?
A few splintered baubles of a forgotten past.
That draws fresh blood when newly caressed
That is, the best tribute, I can a-test.
If newly formed blood should one-drop-bleed
Then all my suffering shall have, succeed
And, the will of my heart intercede
With another heart not yet even a hayseed.
To be amongst these remembered dead
And here now look faintly ahead.
Here lies a dead poet, may he remain asleep
Whose words a spider's web, captures you all discreet.