For Paul, most of all
I thought it would have been different
The flagrant, fragrant flouting of the norms he never cared for
The holiest and sacred of the forms he could not dare for

For Paul, least of all
Was there reason to worry
A fenced in recluse, iconoclast isolated by his own designs
The hermetic chamber ranger, ranged in a chamber while losing his mind

For Paul, all in all
Had the greatest chance to give
And yet he, above all others, had the damndest, darndest character
The way he held himself afray made one wonder at that fair-haired-blur

For Paul, once and for all
Could run faster than a comet
More mighty than a train off its tracks, disgruntled and near fully-loaded
Was nonetheless a bashful boy, more like to have cried than to have gloated

Paul, most of all, I thought
Would have wanted to be done with this
Would have wanted to move on, to let go
The memory unsoiled, unspoiled, left in the ground with a chance yet to grow
Not one to reminisce or repast, not one to look back to the last,
I really, truly thought he’d move on fastest
And now am shocked to see him, now, and, likely, for always
With all his eggs in that same basket