His ink, his gold, his black and white,
His faceless moons and starry bright,
His sun, his day, his end and light,
His “Everything; everything will be all right.”

His smile, his heart, his wake and sleep,
His coffee and breakfast and sugar heap,
His eyes, so blue and waterfall deep,
His Little Bo Peep counting his snowy sheep.

His song, his voice, his bite and bark,
His dark night owl and his sunny morning lark,
His nights in a book, his walks in a park,
His holding my hand in the midnight dark.

His girl, his baby, his friend and wife,
His love in the middle of desperate strife,
His gun, his rope, his blade and knife,
His saying goodbye to the rest of my life.


[sorry for the bad rhyme - it was one of those days]