Posthumous (Poetry)

Not one name should be forgotten
but in truth too many are
letters rain-washed from the tombstone
night won’t miss a burnt-out star

Earth absorbs each tired body
life’s routine rolls on the same
any gap soon sealing over
fifteen-minutes-worth of fame

His music’s melody and lyrics
lie abandoned in some vault
those old albums critics slated
the published work his mother bought

If there should be a soul revival
some might find their names in lights
strung across the bloodless cities
hung from tails of Chinese kites

A final shot at being famous
gig to gig the dreamers go
crooning through the off-stage darkness
one last song to steal the show