Poetic tribute to my Haitian "son," Fritz Leopold upon his graduation from Catholic University with an architecture degree. Names of architects and musicians inserted into the poem are those he admires.

If I was a Shakespeare, a Shelley or Keats,
I would write you a sonnet or two;
I would tell how you’ve journeyed America’s streets,
And the world would pay homage to you;
I would write of your triumphs in difficult times,
And the knowledge and wisdom you’ve got;
I would make you a legend in rhythms and rhymes,
If I was a Keats, but I’m not.

If I was a Hathaway, Wonder or Cole,
I would sing you a ballad and try
To croon of the way you achieve every goal,
As your buildings reach up to the sky;
I’d reveal indescribable brilliance that’s found
In your every tittle and jot;
I would say you shine brightest where legends abound
If a Wonder I was; but I’m not.

It’s a pity I’m not a DaVinci or Whistler,
Or have but a tinge of the great;
I would paint you a portrait to make The Last Supper
Look like a commemorative plate;
I would capture your spirit and courage galore,
In each eye with a glittering dot;
I would paint you a portrait the world would adore,
If a Whistler I was; but I’m not.

What beauty I find in the phrases of others,
Who’d be at no loss for a word
To sing out their praises for one of their brothers
And have all their accolades heard;
In the words of a Dickens, Flaubert or Defoe,
I could doubtlessly write you a lot;
But that would require the rare gift of a Poe,
And a man such as this I am not.

Get your friend Vandereau, perhaps Calatrava
And Tyler, and all of the rest,
To build you the ultimately splendid Valhalla
To honor the one who’s the best;
Let Earth, Wind and Fire sing the opening anthem;
Thelonious will take it from there,
With Legand beside him to really outswank ‘em,
As tributes to you fill the air.

So, while it’s in vain, I have tried to convey
A few words to express what you are;
But I find from my effort that there is no way
To make brighter a radiant star;
While the old Bard of Avon would certainly know
What to say in a similar spot;
I’ll just say we’re all bursting with pride, and then go,
‘Cause the Bard I am certainly not.

Unpublished work © 2010 Henry Zecher