A life hangs painted on the wall of the world
made in brush and texture on the canvas
the hills and trees and rivers of experience
are drawn broad and large.
Bright points of detail shining in brighter colour,
memories sparkle like sunlight on water.
Standing out in jewels are snooker and cribbage and beer.
Jokes and stories are picked out like light on leaves
and mended bikes and late night lifts glow as flowers against the shadows.
No more trees or hills will find their way onto this view.
No more flowers or rivers will gleam or wind.
It is complete and we must see
though artist's brush is stilled and colours dry
the memories will remain undimmed and firm
and love will keep the picture clear.
We stand here now and mourn the artist's passing
but our heavy hearts are eased by the gleaming landscape before us.
And it is to our own pictures we must turn
and save that we keep the memories bright
and at the close we ensure our lives
may at least approach the beauty of my Father's painting.