Abstract: Just A Man
I cried when Prince died,
and sobbed when I saw the gut-wrenching news about Tony.
And when General Powell passed on, I hung my head.
Nearly all my heroes are dead.
Maybe I’m too old or too proud to prop any man up,
higher than a man should be,
but only a few remain,
those who hold my wonder and stir excitement in my veins.
Today, I sat feet away from a man they call Poppa Bill,
and listened as he answered earnest questions from earnest hearts,
but his presence did not stir any of my own.
He’s just a man, as any other.
