Ralph Wakeling

His ring feels tight tonight,
And so I lie alone and think,
Of what he meant to me.
His smile, his warmth,
His rusty cockney laugh,
The gasps for breath,
And watery eyes,
His courage and his strength.
Oh yes, I miss him,
Miss him like,
The little boy when he left me.
He was my friend,
My confidence,
He took such pride in me.
But most of all,
I always felt,
Never an option,
But first choice,
A person wanted,
Not endured,
Potential not a burden.
His ring feels tight,
And so I think on him,
And I am grateful for the time,
That he could give to me.
Such men are more than granddads,
They are gardeners of young boys.



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