Her passing brought a quiet, fond dismay

For those who loved her knew it was her time;

I sent respects though I was far away—

Lost in another land, another rhyme.

She was my mentor and a precious friend;

The letter reached me but a breath too late

It found me meditating, pen in hand…

While she was softly closing heaven’s gate;

Her worth to me? Why I may never know—

The gift of knowledge has no measured part,

That boundless treasure she alone bestowed

I spend in homage to her favored art;

And here inscribed in ink on angel white,

I yield another tribute to her light.