The man who would never surrender

Look over there,

Sat in that comfy reclining chair,

Is a man so wise and strong,

With so much knowledge which was seldom wrong.

The way his eyes would sparkle when he laughed,

And his cheesy smile on all his photographs.

 

His daytime nap making a little snore,

Is he really asleep? I think as I open the door.

He was such a good old joker,

Yet kept a face as straight as a poker.

Wake up you lazy bugger I would say,

Only to realize he wasn’t pretending to play.

 

Sunday TV was the absolute best,

Watching F1 racing whilst fully dressed.

The smell of bacon tickled our senses,

And the brown sauce which caused so many tenses,

When other people would use and abuse,

His bottle of brown sauce for a fickle excuse.

 

And who could forget

His partner in crime who would work up a sweat,

Walking around the large pond every morning,

Stephen and the black Labrador Max should come with a warning,

Everyone from the pond will always remember

The man who would never surrender.

 

So as we all continue this chapter in our life,

And cope with the pain that cuts like a knife,

Remember he is watching over all of you,

Whilst you still live in this house on moorside avenue,

And one day you will all be together again,

Through the sun, wind and the rain. 

comfortfathergriefhusbandmemories

◄ Fears of being rotten to the core

My aunt jane ►

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