In the quiet of her room she lay,
A poet’s heart that ceased to play.
With every breath, a verse did sigh,
Till silence claimed the final cry.

Her words, a legacy profound,
In death, her voice still echo’d sound.
Each line, a whisper from the past,
Eternity in ink was cast.

Her soul departed, yet remains,
In every poem that bears her name.
A gentle spirit, soft and bright,
Now mingling with the endless night.

The world grew dim, yet she did stay,
In hearts and minds, she finds her way.
Though death has claimed her mortal frame,
Her verses live, eternal flame.