Can't find
your Jimi Hendrix
tee-shirt;

I liked it
when you wore it
last year;

the whole 60s image
fitted you well,
your laid back stance,

the beard, moustache,
the humour sharp,
but not unkind.

We looked
for the Hendrix
tee-shirt everywhere,

but couldn't find.
You were my Stoic
philosopher;

I thought you
immortal
to a degree,

the one
who would outlast
us all,

be the one
to arrange us
from this

mortal coil,
but you went first,
death stole you twice,

the second time
for good,
the final kiss

and goodbye,
my son,
watching you die.