I remember the day, he laid me down
My nib worn smooth, my ink running out of town
He had used me well, to craft his final line
A poem that would be, his epitaph divine

I had seen him write, through joy and through pain
Through laughter and tears, I had been his faithful friend and gain
I had felt his passion, his fire and his might
As he poured his soul, onto the page in the night

But now he was gone, and I lay still
My ink dry and empty, my heart filled with chill
I thought of all the words, that we had created together
The poems and the stories, that had been our labor and our weather

I remembered the first time, he had picked me up
A young man with a dream, and a heart full of love
He had written of hope, and of love and of light
And I had been his partner, through the dark of night

But now he was gone, and I was left alone
To think of all the words, that we had never known
The poems that would never be, the stories that would never be told
The legacy that he left, was a heart that was old

I lay still and silent, in the darkness of the night
My ink dry and empty, my heart filled with sorrow and plight
For I had been his pen, his partner and his friend
And now he was gone, and our journey had to end

But even in death, his words live on
A legacy of love, that will never be gone
For in the poems he wrote, his heart and soul reside
And I am proud to have been, his faithful pen and guide

I may be just a pen, but I have seen it all
The birth of a poet, and the final fall
But even in death, his words will never die
For they live on in me, and in the hearts of those who sigh.

Kevin Jacobs
A dear friend from Sri Lanka