This man.
This man who smelled of wood and coffee,
who loved his people and his friends,
who cared for creatures great and small,
who always had a hand or time to lend,
who listened slowly to other's stories,
who told his own with wit and grace,
who always had the kindest words,
who saw the silver lining first,
who had a soul sent straight from heaven,
who spoke to each as if the only,
who made time for play and sun and flowers,
who never hurried but did things quickly,
who fixed the broken while saving the parts,
This man had a lion's heart.
He had a patience never matched,
a humble soul, a mind so sharp,
he's missed by all who ever knew him.
He's missed by me, his life was art.
This man who smelled of wood and coffee,
who loved his people and his friends,

who always had a hand or time to lend,
who listened slowly to other's stories,
who told his own with wit and grace,
who always had the kindest words,
who saw the silver lining first,
who had a soul sent straight from heaven,
who spoke to each as if the only,
who made time for play and sun and flowers,
who never hurried but did things quickly,
who fixed the broken while saving the parts,
This man had a lion's heart.
He had a patience never matched,
a humble soul, a mind so sharp,
he's missed by all who ever knew him.
He's missed by me, his life was art.
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