Our Uncle Peter- A poem by William Parker
Dark chocolate digestives,
Horses galloping by on the Grand National.
Only our Uncle Peter
Uttering of times gone by,
Old footballers, streets lost to memory.
Only our Uncle Peter
A good humour always,
Even when dark times set in.
Was it he was unaware or did he take it on the chin?
The last of the Clapham clan,
Gone to the heavens above,
Laughing all the way.
Only our Uncle Peter.
Behind the smiles, behind the jokes
Was a feeling only pain invokes.
For that alone, amongst our grief
We breathe a sigh of sad relief.
For now he has ascended where he can reunite
With all those he lost, and feel delight.
Only our Uncle Peter
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