The black plumed e-booker jet flew me with pride
to be at your side
For one last conversation
A song
Some observations;
on cliffs, cabarets and no regrets.
We share follicles
and a taste in shirts
Present tense
This really hurts...
This final call
to identify your corpse
Because, of course
On November 6th
one cold kiss
and a single tear closed the gate
And you,
your Africa, Australia and grey old England
Were gone forever
Never to be kissed again.
In a world of small people you were a giant
And I am sad
and proud
To say out loud
Yes
this was My Dad.
