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Poem

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.

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