The ease and simple grace
Of this man who’s died
Cannot be lied about
Cannot be denied..

His echoing presence
Still sings in my head
Still stings in my heart
We’re never alone,
We're never apart.

Like the mocking bird’s song:
These mimus polyglottos,
These speakers of a hidden art,
Which sings and recreates
Moments that survive
When we were all alive.

Oh! it’s a sin to kill a mocking bird
And it’s a sin to mock the dead:
Like something found not buried
Like something felt not said.