In the quiet of the night, where shadows creep,
The poet’s voice, now silenced, finds its sleep.
Words once vibrant, now echoes in the wind,
A legacy of verses, left behind.

Beneath the stars, where dreams and sorrows blend,
Dylan’s spirit lingers, like a faithful friend.
Through the valleys of despair and hope’s ascent,
His lines eternal, whispers heaven-sent.

The taverns mourn, where laughter and tears entwine,
His presence missed, his absence etched in time.
A soul so wild, yet tender in its grace,
With every stanza, we still see his face.

Though death has claimed the poet from our sight,
His words remain, a beacon in the night.
In every heart that feels his rhythmic flow,
Dylan Thomas’ spirit continues to grow.