In quiet rooms where shadows play,
Billy Collins’ words softly sway,
They whisper tales of daily life,
And cut through time like a sharpened knife.
His gentle humor weaves a thread,
Through thoughts of living and the dead,
With every line, a world unfurls,
Reflecting on our simple worlds.
He paints the mundane with a golden hue,
Finds beauty in the things we knew,
Each poem a window to the past,
Moments captured that forever last.
So let us read and softly dream,
In Billy Collins’ quiet stream,
Where every word and every note,
Is a gentle smile, a tender quote.