Stalwart was he,
Lackluster he wasn't.

He was acephalous,
Never minded rules.

My Uncle was optimum of most women,
He philandered with many, but we still loved him.

Now that he is gone,
all we have left is recollection of the past,
and dreams of things we didn't have the chance to do.

We're stuck in a melancholy mood, that nothing can help us escape.