The Green Grass Of September.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

mr raval had taught us to sing
to try to remember the grasses of
september

he was devoted to music and we
were his choir that won awards
here and there

when he died he was alone without
his music,
his house after fell, his body buried
in that faraway mountain

we grieve but we could not reach out
for him, his magic gone, his music too,
but who can erase him as a memory?

our hearts bleed for him as the music
so sad lingers in space in time in everywhere.