His hair was gray and he laughed with a smile. 
Quiet in manner, but no meekness in his style.
Breathing an air of confidence, he stood so tall.
Respected by others, when his named was called. 

I looked at him with awe in my eyes.
He was my hero, he could touch the skies.
His masculine frame now lays in a box,
With colorful flowers covering the top. 

It’s hard to believe, I won’t see him again
Until my time on earth meets it end.
But when that day comes and my spirit is free,
He’ll meet me at the gate and wall cover with me.