You died under a bridge,
On your way home through Old Darnley –
something I wish I could change,
but know I cannae.
Your short life lived caring for others –
never yourself. God, you were worth so much more!
I keep expecting to see you
rounding the corner – blue carrier filled with
morning rolls, cans of juice, this morning’s papers.
Instead, I watch tears fall from the cheeks
of all who loved you. You
the gentlest man –
that still brings a smile to my face.
your voice still resonates
inside my head
your scent lingers on
like the sadness we never knew existed –
until you were gone.
Faced with the finality of goodbye,
Wee Granny said, What am I gonnae dae
ma Golden Boy?
We don’t know, because
you were oor Golden Boy tae.