The Rain Sang His Songs

He left far too much
And echoed for way too long
To ever be dead,

The wind carried his whispers
And ushered his soul,

The sky dedicated colours
And the rain sang his songs,

His dreams popped as they dropped,
Caught by fans far and wide,

He was the icon all wildfire,
Electric lust and neon lights,

And now the music pauses,

Past the horizon,

Out of sight.

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