The Poetry Machine

Will the poetry machine inside my head
Keep running on after I am dead?

Churning out copy for Roger G
And others who might want to see

Or will it finally grind to a halt
Leaving remnants for the vault

My output has not been all that prodigious
So what does it matter if I burn all my bridges

Still I’d like to leave something after I’ve gone
Not some dull little verse that makes you yawn

But all I can think of as I near the end
Is that it’s a great joy to have a friend