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For Charlie, With Love

To thee I sing O’ muse of verse,
Of our world that the Gods do curse.
For what Gods are these who cruelly play,
Their wicked games, for which humans pay.
Not content with a world of joy & love
They spite us all from Olympus above.
To try us all & break our backs,
As this is drama their world lacks.
For even Achilles was to die,
Yet his name lives on as time goes by.
So let me sing to you of a Great man,
Who’s name too lives on, after his sands have ran.
Charlie his name a heart so pure,
Full of love & passion, & courage sure.
Strode in he did to save poor souls,
One loving lady & her three foals.
‘Tis true his anger at times did boil,
But his effort was not mere toil.
‘Coz though the fires sometimes burned,
He & the foals soon were learned,
That in peace & harmony, joyous times were had,
A man found proud to call Dad.
With he at their side those foals matured,
& They to his nature became inured.
His fair traits & wit passed down,
Championer of rights, humour of renown.
But alas the Gods were not appeased,
Their unending anger had not eased,
So Zeus sent down his violent bolt
& struck Charlie down, what was his fault?
Who knows but they I shall not dwell,
‘Tis but part of the story that I do tell.
For when he passed on & spirit released,
His body slowed & heart was ceased,
He left himself without a sound
& found himself to Olympus bound.
 As he soared high like the dove
To the mount of the Gods high above,
He smiled to us all & sent a kiss
To all the people that he’ll miss.
& miss him back so we will,
That emptiness which we know can’t fill.
But hush your mourning & your sadness,
As he wished it show your gladness
That Charlie came & he all did touch,
Be thankful that we have that much.
So as I close this verse I do sing,
Aphrodite’s love & the fire Hephaestus does bring.
I say to thee be angry not at the Gods,
At Hera’s scheming & Zeus’s vile rods.
For they too bow to the fates,
Who plan our loves & plot our hates.
I thank thee all for your time,
For listening to my Ode to Charlie; my idle rhyme.
How I wish though, the outcome I could reverse,
I sing to thee, O’ muse of verse.

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