I sent off this morning
down the road along the river
which i take but once a year
my walk will take me by the shore
then inland for a mile or more
from the cold sea spray

a small wood stands upon the hill
an old house near it lies in ruins
forgotten long ago
and here in a clearing, overgrown with moss and ivy
is your lovely grave

a dusk i will make my way
along the lanes and through the fields
to where my cottage is
but before i step inside for bed
i'll look up at the stars as we had
all those years ago

so here's for uncle pat