and I do too, my uncle
he gave me wings to dream on,
fed me when I needed feeding
not with food, no with dreams,
and for that I owe him everything.

That is why when he finally laid at his owl's rest
this owl wept, and saying goodbye, left
the final dream to rest.

Goodbye Uncle Bob, weaver of dreams,
and may a chorus of hooting owls
sing you to your last detail,
up there with the wise ones,
forever looking down -
with love.