To an uncle,
My oldest, most loving,
Who held my tender heart,
Dear in his hands,
With skin like the leather binding,
Of his old, worn books,

His words of wisdom,
Shine through his humour,
Like the broken colour of a painting,

I will remember,
His st-stutter, his stammering,
His clover and fresh grass scent,
And the fire in his old brown eyes,
When he is gone,
I know he will be gone soon,

Dearest Uncle Peter...
Peter like the rabbit,
Like rabbits he hunted,
Peter and his cabbages,

My Old Peter grew the best ones,
With Sam by his side,
Sam who drank his beer,
"Good dog, Sam", Peter said,
He barely gets a word out now,
His voice rusty, unused,
Like the garden tools will be,
When Peter is gone