Homage (Poetry)

Pale it surely is, by comparison
anaemic, even in the wider scheme
this artless stumble over a few words —
a trace of deeper meaning lingering
though still not quite the thing.
Lacking — always lacking —
near-absurd

to think that I should dare to emulate
or get close enough
in tone — in style — to one elusive song
that tumbled clear as water
from a natural source.
That land’s forever his —
I don’t belong.

If anything, my lines contain an echo —
a borrowing from a life
I wished I’d lived.
I so envied him its earthbrown
honest humour —
a poor excuse I hope
he might forgive.