The parents in the middle though,cant share this special caring,Its just for us, my Gran and I,adventures we are sharing,And even if my situations bad,my Gran is not deterred,What is it about a Grandmother?I think Love must be the word! The fences have all been mended. As the engines start up, and our rumble grows loud.We ride for our brethren who can no longer be found.The sunglasses we wear are to cover our tears.Remembering those who ride that weve held so dear. Core of my heart, my country! Excludes Gift Memberships, Discount applies to first year. He strived so hard from day to dayAnd never oft complained,With steady hands he worked so hardAnd kept the family name, Dad dwells amongst the angels now;He left us much too soon.He is now with mum, his wife again;From pain he is immune. This is one. give me the flavourof butterscotch and vanillawith a little chocolateplease and thank you. He hopes for a blissful afterlife for the man, and knows that if there isn't one, he's happy knowing his friend made the best of his. Im climbing a mountainI feel like a bird in the air,Im gliding and soaringAnd feel like I havent a care. I have always neededthe solace of storiesthe companionship of charactersthe escape of other worldsthe wisdom of wordsthe guidance of good writing. I can talk as we rollAnd I know that a soulMust lurk in thy wonderful frameA spiritual essenceSome far hidden presenceSome genius of magical fame. All poems featured on this website are free to use during any ceremony, although it is good practice to make sure the author is mentioned, if known. I have been on the razzle-dazzleFull many a time since then;But I never could get the chemistTo brew that drink again.He says hes forgotten the notion Twas only by chance it came Hes tried me with various liquidsBut oh! Sadly he has passed away and I'd like to include an evocative piece, perhaps something describing a match or an aspect of the game, that I could read at his funeral. Close The Gate Nancy Kraayenhof A poem accenting the physical and metaphorical importance of closing the gateThe Harvest Sherrie Bradley Neal A more symbolic poem about the harvest and how it reflects the cycle of life.I Farmed The Land Earl Smithson A beautiful little poem about the simplicity and skill of a farmers life.Im Just A Farmer, Plain And Simple Bobby Collier Another poem about the supposed simplicity of farming life.The Old Farmers Prayer Steve Watkins A lightly religious poem about a farmers final message to their loved ones. Some folk drive for transport, just a means unto an end,They treat cars as a mere machine, and not a trusted friend,Concerned only for the badge in front, how bright it may be shining,And the many pretty toys inside, their egos there defining. There were some lovely lines in the eulogy for Phillip Hughes. I watch the magic happeningAs yarn becomes a shawl.The knitting needles of my auntAre at her beck and call. Having this knowledge makes the fire fighters,our heroesof the past, present and future. Our Alley,who art in BowlingHallowed by thy lanesThy strikes will comeThy will be doneOn approach as it is on releaseGive us this game our weekly bowling nightAnd forgive us our splitsAs we forgive thoseWho excessively celebrate against us.Lead us not into the gutterBut deliver us from the ten pin.For ever and EverBowl Men. Sown in the earth by skillful handsBrought forth by sun and storm,Destined for a harvest dayFulfilled when ripe grain forms. When you spiralled down and moreI longed for a reverse,Id have given my right armFor your pain to disperse. And Rest Rev. Forever the bells will be goneI do not know where to find themFor I thought not of their lightAnd I heard not what they sangWhen the ten thousand bells rang. For everything we do,there is a dance to get us through.For every day,we dance our life away. Time flies like an arrow .. fruit flies like a banana. Every driver,maximum speed desires.Each sharp turn,burns their tires. Poems for those who had a calm aura, or poems for those who seek calmness in death. And when he stood on his hands, his bodyCurled like a wave about to break,It was as if he had become a conduitFor the energy that lifted him, a lakeThrough which the light of motion passedAs if he were a lens that bentThe radiance of his own quickness. Poems for those who suffered from dementia during their life. As you played and sharedAnd helped and taughtThe laughter and love always shone through. Stretching my limbsChoreographing on a whimAlways aiming to be strongerTo hold my arabesque longer. Jack the cricket was sneaking around in the dell. Knit one, purl one, knit two togetherHer woollen creations will last forever.The sound of her needles, clickety clack,Another row on the counter, turn and go back. The other bingo players follow you with their eyes,As you happily claim that winning prize,Just the thought of bingo and the chance to win,Makes you smile one great big bingo grin! I have always been a readera devourer of printI have loved the musty smell of librariesthe heft of a book in my handthe sound of pages turningthe sight of words under a flashlightin the dark. Poems reflecting a passion and love for cricket. In the Theatre Of DreamsThe lights have dimmedThe curtains about to close, Its the end of the showSadly it happened you knowLife just ebbs and flows, The cast in my lifeWere my children, my wifeNow only memories fill my head, I have lived all my dreamsNow its the end of the sceneMy script has finally been read, When you walk through a stormHold your head up highAnd dont be afraid of the dark, At the end of a stormTheres a golden skyAnd the sweet silver song of a lark, Walk on through the windWalk on through the rainFor your dreams be tossed and blown, Walk on, walk onWith hope in your heartAnd youll never walk aloneYoull never walk alone. I know I caused you sadness,I know caused you pain,But I was captured by these demons,They wouldnt set me free again. We didnt eat in front of the TVOr with a phone in our handWe werent plugged into a stereobopping to the latest band. You see, there is a shadow wherethere didnt used to be,and sometimes when I look right thereit just confuses me. "Alive" by Winifred Mary Letts. Poems for those who enjoyed the challenges of rock climbing, hiking, and fell-walking. Poems for those who lived their life in rural areas, or simply shared a passion for rolling hills and sprawling fields. Short Poems for Funerals - Short Poems Id like to remember all those times I hit the mark,Or when, as a friend, I was a light in the dark.Id like to recall all the times Id always be there,Despite sometimes arriving with just moments to spare. Rest there on the mossWhere the soft zephyrs tossThough circlet of beauty and prideWith thy invisible wingsAttached to thy stringsAre folded in peace at thy side. If you can lend a hand, when hand is needed,And with your clubmates, you can take your turn,So, marking, clocking, checking can be speeded,And each and every job you thus will learn.If you can join the throng at payout dinner,And laugh and joke and join in all the fun,And really mean it when you clap each winner,Yet know fulwell that you have nowt to come. by Gabrielle Tintitranslation by David Graham. Are there Bowling Greens in Heaven Lord?Crown Greens I mean for me?Will there be lush grass, warm breezesAnd endless cups of tea? Life is fleeting,And now, like those tendrils of steam,I, too, must rise, and float awayTo some distant, better place. There is no frigate like a bookTo take us lands away,Nor any coursers like a pageOf prancing poetry. If I could be there with you, wed laugh and share memories from our past,And this gathering would be just one more tale, another story, not our last.But today I cant be with you, except in heart and memory stores.So, youll have to laugh, remember the past,and then let your engines roar! The sun goes down,But gentle warmthStill lingers on the land. An old man going a long highwayCame in the evening cold and grayTo a chasm vast and deep and wide.The old man crossed in the twilight dim,The sullen stream had no fears for him,But he stopped when safe on the other sideAnd built a bridge to span the tide. She wore her earringsLike a queenWith regal graceAnd a silent dignityThat only a womanWho knows who she isCan possess. Your fingerprints are on my heart.Fingerprints that teach me about caring.Fingerprints that teach me about love.Fingerprints that teach me about courage.Fingerprints that teach me about hope.Fingerprints that bring me closer to my loved ones.Fingerprints that bring me closer to myself.In the time I cared for you my whole life changed never to be the same againAll this from tiny fingerprints that touch my heart.You will live in my heart forever never to be forgotten.I will always love you.You are my child. You are the picture I paint in my headOf beauty that only exists in thought.You are the picture I dream of in bed.Of beauty that I have forever thought. It's been mixed up week here at STW Towers, mostly thanks to everyone suddenly realising they haven't used up their annual leave so they'd better take some time off. He held up a golden crown,as my darling mother looked on.He said in His gentle voice,I will now explain each one., The first gem, He said, is a Ruby,and its for endurance alone,for all the nights you waited upfor your children to come home., For all the nights by their bedside,you stayed till the fever went down.For nursing every little wound,I add this ruby to your crown., An emerald, Ill place by the ruby,for leading your child in the right way.For teaching them the lessons,That made them who they are today., For always being right there,through all lifes important events.I give you a sapphire stone,for the time and love you spent.. The Laughter and Love anon A poem reflecting how the deceased always filled a room with laughter and love.My Funny Friend anon A poem for a very specific character of person, who was funny, weird and kind all at once.Pardon Me For Not Getting Up Kelly Roper A humorous message from the deceased to the mourning. Pirouette, PirouetteDancers silhouettePracticing at duskDedication is a must. There Is A New Star Shining In The Sky Tonight, Dear God, Please Take Care Of My Little Girl, Martial Arts Is So Much More Than Just A Fighting Art. After the night, the morning, bidding all darkness cease, Some things we dont find easyto accept or understand.Until we realize theyre part ofour Creators perfect plan. She is sitting in an armchair,the kind that envelops youwhen you sink into it,lost in a bookthat is taking her someplacefar from this room,someplace beyond the reachof the late afternoon sunthat is streaming through the window,beyond the reach of this houseand the row of houses next to it,beyond the streets and the townsand the fields that surround them. To see you change has made me sad,But it cannot change the love weve had. She wore from ears, from nose, from lips, The ones that are on show, And she wore a heap in other places, But there I will not go. I pray that once Ive donned my padsAnd walked out to the square,That none of my nicks find a palm,And that I score my share. You ran with grace and strength all game,Your footwork swift and sure,Scored goals with ease and utmost grace,Brought joy to all who saw. The third candle we light in your memory: the times we laughed, the times we cried,the times we were angry towards each other, the silly things you did, and the caring and joy you gave us. When you hold this blanket in your armsAnd close your eyes real tightYou can feel the love I tucked insideWhen I made this late one night. Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? The warm crowd faintly clapped, When he put them all together,He was amazed at what hed done.He had created a family,Mother, father, daughter, son. Forget what is happening all around,And keep both feet upon the ground; Dont let anything hurry you,And let each dart fly straight and true! One day youll take your journeyOn the train just like meAnd I promise that Ill be thereAt the station and you will see: That life is just a journeyEnriched by those you meetNo-one can take that from youIts always yours to keep. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. Knit one purl one, knit one purl oneThe band was almost doneThe soft sound of the needles clickety clackFinish one row, turn around and go back. The transfer window never closesAs new players arrive all the timeTheres always a top team to play onAs for the kit, I just wish Id brought mine. I always begin With the first clue across, Continuing on Until Im at a loss. I guess he wrote a lot more in a similar vein. Cricket is played by two teams of eleven players and two umpires. Could I meet family and friends, Lord?All those who have gone before?Have you lots of seats for supporters?And markers who will score? The band upstairs is striking upFor me they now awaitTo play again I now can doAs I pass through heavens gate. Children that I leave behind,And their children, all were kind;Near to them and to my wife,I was happy all my life. Apart from its sporting associations, this cheerful song is the audio equivalent of a ray of sunshine - perfect for celebration of life funerals. A limb has fallen from the family tree.I keep hearing a voice that says,Grieve not for me.Remember the best times,the laughter, the song.The good life I livedwhile I was strong.Continue my heritage,Im counting on you.Keep smiling and surelythe sun will shine through.My mind is at ease,my soul is at rest.Remembering all,how I truly was blessed.Continue traditions,no matter how small.Go on with your life,dont worry about falls.I miss you all dearly,so keep up your chin.Until the day comeswere together again.. Poetry and Verses for Funerals and Epitaphs. I think about all the things Ill miss,your smile, your laugh, your kiss. Its all about expectingAnd then throwing inIts all about the winningBut not whining not giving-inThe square, the short and long ballThe pals, solid as a rockThe unexpected tackleSudden shock, You felt the roarAnd saw the lucky chipThe crossbar stopped the goalThat you were willing in, And in the endAt injury timeWhen you went deep and deeperYou didnt find the goalOr spot the sweeper. So I praise this car and its wobbly ride And Im gosh darn grateful that Im still inside. Poems for people who had family at the centre of their lives. A Boy and His Dad by Edgar A. The archer and his bowCannot be torn apart;For shot after shotThey share the same heart. You can go now my loveI must allow you to.The world is a vast and beautiful placeSo much to exploreWithout me. Heaven has received another angel,The night sky another star.Your life has become a loving memory.I know you will never be far. I see through different eyes.I see a bigger picture when others see grey skies.Though many cant conceive it, I stand facing the wind.My bravery, not from fighting, but from my strength within. Not just a freeway drive, but each outing on a mission,And not a veering trundle, but a task of deep precision,Not the tedium of traffic, relief at the arriving,The thrill is in the journey, and the passion in the driving. Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Finally we sit and roll a dice,Watching each roll like hungry mice,Bobby always seems to have too much loot,And we wonder if there is some hidden in a boot;Jenny just cant get a breakand will be in gaol for three rolls sake;Uncle Ron just sits with a grin, and we wonder what is his sin;Dad just tries to moderate, But Aunt Sue is truly irate!The kids all laugh, its just a gameIts family time: will we remain sane? We light these five candles in honour of our loved ones: One for our grief, one for our courage, one for our memories, one for our love, and one for our hope. cricket poems for funerals. Based on real world data - you can't go wrong with these poems. Where houses stand and turf once lay. Poems for those who had a passion for wearing jewellery, or dedicated a lifetime to crafting it themselves. We rubbed our chins and scratched our heads just what did it mean?Try menacing, or angry,or something in between? And now as we gather,To say goodbye to you,Well raise a cup of coffee,And honour all youve been through. Poems for those who had a love for the beach, seashore, sand, and tides. What are Airlines Policies on carrying ashes? That would be the most meaningful of all. I light a candle in loving memory of you:Its flame flickers like the spark you lit in me.The wax melts away like moments in timeTil we meet again.So shines a symbol of hopein a sorrow-filled world.The wicks warmth keeps the flame alightlike my faith within keeps me alive.Smoke spirals into the sky towards yousaying your name.The shimmering shine spreads peaceand parts the shadows.Its illuminating light lifts my soul to youand combines our consciousness.The flame of the candle may blow outbut the flame of our lovewill always burn in my heart. And when great souls die,after a period peace blooms,slowly and alwaysirregularly. The magical sound of leather on willowThe sweet smell of freshly cut grassThecricketer crossing the last boundaryTo a third innings that would forever last. Clean your rims, my friend! Alzheimers Dick Underwood A touching poem about how Alzheimers often takes away the mind before the body.I Am At Peace Jennifer Alderton A short verse accepting the peace and freedom that comes with death after illness.The Long Goodbye Ellen Miller A verse reminding us that the person we have lost was not defined by their disease.Those Hands That Once Held Mine Dean Harrison A beautiful verse for a son about his mother and her Alzheimers.Two Mothers Remembered Joann Snow Duncanson Remembering a mother who changed due to illness. Fossils ,storms,eroded coast.The shadow that I miss the most.A lonely voice, lost to the waves.Singing in a hidden cave.A silent humupon the shore,a voice thats never heard,no more.Maybe on some other plain,somewhere lost inside my brain.Words transcending from the grave,somewhere lost inside my brain. The 'Cricket' Funeral Order of Service design is from the HobbiesRange, which is only available from Fitting Farewell. He seemed to cast off weight and gravityAs if he were no more than a spiritWhose substance was its own agility. Though the day was made for scaling,And the dusk gathers too soon,You and mellgono more a-climbingBy thelight of the moon. Poems for those who savoured the taste of coffee and relished it as more than just a boost of caffeine. A troublemaker, a teacher, a friend. One, two, three, four,Heels click down on the catwalk floor.Five, six, seven, eight,Head held high and back dead straight. Cricket themed reading for Dads funeral - Singletrack World Magazine Its bad times youve persevered.Its all the fun youve had.Its any time youve ever laughedand every tear youve shed. The fistic world was dull and weary,But with a champ like Liston, things had to be dreary.Then someone with color and someone with dash,Brought fight fans a-runnin with plenty of cash.For I am the man this poem is about,The next champ of the world, there isnt a doubt.Iamthe greatest! That very place where children sit,in safety and in pleasure,To bask in love and comfort,is truly a childs life treasure,Where this child can feel so grown up,and a Gran feel like a kid,Learn and laugh together from stories,of all the things she did. You would need to contact the club directly try reception@mcc.org.uk to start with. Where every day is a day to fish,To fill your heart with every wish.Dont worry, or feel sad for me,Im fishin with the Master of the sea. In the grey summer garden I shall find youWith day-break and the morning hills behind you.There will be rain-wet roses; stir of wings;And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings.Not from the past youll come, but from that deepWhere beauty murmurs to the soul asleep:And I shall know the sense of life re-bornFrom dreams into the mystery of mornWhere gloom and brightness meet. The love of field and coppice, of green and shaded lanes,Of ordered woods and gardens is running in your veins.Strong love of grey-blue distance, brown streams and soft, dim skies-I know but cannot share it, my love is otherwise. I dont know where wed be today,If it werent for the two of you.To show us strength, support, and love,Like only the two of you can do. Poems for those who forged a career as a hair stylist, and had a passion for hair design. There . Maailmankaikkeus. Toes taped so tightlySmiling big and brightlyRed lipstick adding to her beautyThe dancer moves so smoothly. Im giving up bridge Tonights my last nightIts amen to Staymen, I give up the fight.The insults and muddles are giving me troublesAnd I cant sleep at night for thinking of doubles. The rays of light filtered throughThe sentinels of trees this morning.I sat in the garden and contemplated.The serenity and beautyOf my feelings and surroundingsCompletely captivated me. I Am A Martial Artist Karen Eden A poem about the pride and courage needed for various forms of martial art.Karate Is A Quiet Art Mark Gregory A reflection upon karate as a journey of self-discipline.Martial Arts Is So Much More Than Just A Fighting Art Daya Nandan A poem about the richness of martial arts.The Warriors Spirit Mark Gregory A poem about the strong, bold spirit of a fighter and warrior. One popular poem, Dylan Thomas' " Do not go gentle into that good night ," talks about the unstoppable nature of death and how we can challenge the way we face death. Funeral Poems about Flying Free or Letting Go The White Chariot During your journey on your final flight home. If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door,Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees,Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,He was one who had an eye for such mysteries? Some light up rooms with their laughterOthers brighten the world with a smile.Many will make you feel happyBy sitting nearby for a while. Unique if rudyard kipling related items, Etsy. Its all these thingsand so much more,so dont stress.If you lived your lifeWild-n-free,Then its been a success. He took his place upon the matAt the angle that he wanted;So rigidly he stood there, thatIt looked like he was planted.He eyed the flag up on the mastAnd weighed the wind a blowing;He called experience from the pastTo guide where the bowl was going. Bury Me In Lycra! For the field is full of shades as I near the shadowy coast, And a ghostly batsman plays to the bowling of a ghost, And I look through my tears . Iron horses, hundreds strong,Come thundring through the gate;Sleeping souls on notice, fallenBiker nears his fate. Profanity : Our optional filter replaced words with *** on this page , What I hear as I type: Crickets Chirping. Beer Is Just Fine - Roy Pett - A humorous verse deliberating over the wonders of beer. play up! Anyone have any other suggestions? The Song of the Reel by W. E. Hutchinson. A football team is only as good as its last game; the mood of supporters rises and falls with each result. Poems for those who enjoyed the ebb and flow of angling. Never walk behind the bowler's arm - Yorkshire Bylines Life is an ocean and love is a boat,In troubled water that keeps us afloat,When we started the voyage, there was just me and you Now gathered round us, we have our own crew. I pray the umpire knows his job,And doesnt lift his finger.But if he does I pledge to you:Ill not forlornly linger. For forty years Ive lived with God,Oft from the haunts of men.Ive thought upon His wondrous wordAnd scenes beyond our ken. So go, my loveClimb that mountain in the sunsetI will watch you with a smileand eternal lovein my heart. God looked around his gardenAnd found an empty place,He then looked down upon the earthAnd saw your tired face. All Internet links/videos/pictures in here ONLY, Optical equipment repair and refurbishment as a hobby. The Lego builder, with skill and care,Constructed worlds, beyond compare,With towers tall, and cities fair:A legacy, to last and share. Crickets Poems - Modern Award-winning Crickets Poetry : All Poetry Poems / Crickets Poems - The best poetry on the web Flowermuse Follow Feb 14 Haiga 2-14-23B Feb 14, Stan Rodriguez haiga---haiga---springs color crickets Like ( 2) 2 The Lady of Perelen Follow Feb 2 Natural jazz Saxophone grooving with A twilight metronome Although we fell and stumbled at times,all those hills were necessary climbs. The curtain has come downOn the performance of a lifetime:But as the show must go onWe stage unrehearsed lines. That taketh all things under wing. But the greatest of the treasuresThat old apron could ever holdWas the endless love from MotherAbiding in each fold. These are my footprints, so perfect and so small.These tiny footprints, never touched the ground at all.Not one tiny footprint, for now I have my wings.These tiny footprints were meant for other things.You will hear my tiny footprints, in the patter of the rain.Gentle drops like angels tears, of joy and not from pain.You will see my tiny footprints, in each butterflies lazy dance.Ill let you know Im with you, if you give me just a chance.You will see my tiny footprints, in the rustle of the leaves.I will whisper names into the wind, and call each one that grieves.Most of all, these tiny footprints, are found in mummys heart,cause even though Im gone now, well never truly part. Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,And blackening clouds about me cling.But, oh, I have a magic wayTo turn the gloom to cheerful dayI softly sing. You made me proud of who you areand all that you have done You often reached beyond the starsto find your goals and won. anon A poem wondering whether one has done productive or destructive deeds in life. Grandmas Apron Tina Trivett A lovely, reflective piece about the many things a grandmothers apron has seen.MORE THYME! May 5, 2020 - Explore Nancy Schlag's board "cowboy prayers" on Pinterest. I know not of richesBut rather, of patches on my britchesI know of draught and rain,Of pleasure and pain. So when you talk of family lifeOr how it used to beThough many had more moneyNone were as rich as me. So, if this is the last timeWe speak, then may I say,Life with you was good, my friend,And Ill see you on the 19th one day. A keen Bridge player from ChardFound losing so terribly hardImagine how she feltWhen she saw shed been dealtThree jokers and a bridge scoring card? Where the azure of the heavensMeets the undulating blue,Where the sweeping, soaring seagullFlies its endless quest for food.It is there that I would rest,When my work on earth is done,At the endless blue horizonNeath the crimson, setting sun. Did you know when you posed for that photoThat it would represent my sincerest dreams?Did you know, posing, letting yourself goThat you would represent all of loves themes? And though you are gone, though youre not here with methe cord is still there but no one can seeIt pulls at my heart, I am bruisedI am sorebut this cord is my lifeline as never before. Poems for those who loved nothing better than riding on two wheels. For years, the riverbank was whereYour soul felt most at peaceYour heart was most content when thereWith the fish and the geese. The windows blurry, the odometers broke,The tires are bare; whos driving this car? Sowellgono more a-climbingSolate into the night,Though the will be neer unyielding,And the urge be still as bright. Granddad,We know you can no longer stay with us,you fought long and hard to be with us.We know you now watch over and protect us.Although we cannot hear your voice or see your smiling face,We know deep down in our hearts that you have not left us.Instead every day you surround us with the singing of the birds,the rising of the sun and the falling of night.So many broken hearts are left behind,But in our deepest despair our greatest comfort lies knowingthat you are now at peace with the angels and God.So as times passes our tears will dry,our hearts will mend,but our love for you will never end. Just know our love goes deep and strongWell forget you neverThe child we had, but never hadAnd yet will have forever! To the feet of your Lord, your Saviour, and your friend. Eyes the shady night has shutCannot see the record cut,And silence sounds no worse than cheersAfter earth has stopped the ears. Funeral Poems | Popular Funeral Verses | Dignity Funerals I dont give a jot!Ive railed and Ive raved since my dotage beganIts my privilege, cos Im a grumpy old man. Followed by being beaten,piece by piece.Watching our pieces leave us;it is lonely, scary. No grand schemes,They passed me by.I knew the brook,The hills, the sky. The song captures the atmosphere of a village cricket match and is an elegy to the game as played during Harper's youth. Few things are as fleetingAs footprints in the sand;Sometimes we walk aloneAnd sometimes hand in hand. Poems for those who brought laughter into our lives. I do not ask you for your tears,For I am free, my suffering past.Remember all the times we laughed,And when you find that happy place,Let a smile light up your face. The board is your target, not the mat,So, be careful what youre aiming at! As you touched our livesWith your generosity and careYour laughter and love always shone through. My mind has ways of taking mewhere I dont want to go.I know I know you name, you see;Just right now its hard for meto think of things I really knowand to know what really is,and what may not be so.
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