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In a small town nestled in Tennessee's embrace,  
Lived a man named Roger, with a wild, free grace.  
A rebel and a dreamer, a hippie at heart,  
With a spirit so vibrant, he played his own part.  

With a big heart that welcomed all souls in his way,  
He spread love like sunshine, brightening each day.  
A talented carpenter, crafting dreams from the wood,  
His hands told a story, of beauty and good.  

A poet of life, with words that could dance,  
He captured the moments, the magic, the chance.  
A father, a husband, a friend to the lost,  
Yet he ran from his pain, never counting the cost.  

“Roger Dodger,” they called him, for he’d slip through the night,  
Dodging the burdens, avoiding the fight.  
But deep in his heart, he carried the weight,  
Of love and of laughter, of joy and of fate.  

Now God called him home, for repairs up above,  
To mend broken wings, to spread heavenly love.  
No more does he wander, no more does he roam,  
His heart aches no longer; he’s finally home.  

With hands now at work in a realm pure and bright,  
He crafts beauty in heaven, a wondrous delight.  
So when you look up at the stars shining clear,  
Know Roger’s still with us, his spirit is near.  

In the whispers of wind, in the rustle of trees,  
In the laughter of children, in the soft summer breeze,  
He’s the love that surrounds us, the warmth in our days,  
For the rebel and hippie now dances on sun rays.

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