Free

His laughter filled the most vacant rooms And his smile could light a thousand faces His shape in the garden Chuckling to himself His dreams in his stories Merging with yours The strange tint in his voice Clinging to memory It seems he's among us even now His bench still waiting for his weightless form His twinkling eyes Speaking only to you His quick wit and laughter Infectious to all The ideals he carried Even to the end He lived as he wished others could Smiled every day at every thing Laughed so the world could follow Sparkled in his own Irish charms And dreamed to live the dream, rather than imagine it A Lover, A Friend, An Uncle, A Father, A husband - more than a label - what he could see the world to be - free.