TITLE - R. O. Y. 
DATE WRITTEN - 05/08/02
By Thomas

R. O. Y 

My uncle was very dear to us all,

And his final months were never a bore.

He would not let our sprits sink or fall,

As he told us that his feet touched the floor.


"It’s going to be a good day," he’d say,

Always managing to make us smile.

But like an exciting movie or play,

His charm would only last a short while.


Finally, the sun was trapped by the hill;

both the sun and my uncle were dying.

Death at sunset, activated his will,

Which caused cradling, crabbing, and crying.


Now Roy is gone and my family is sad,

But he is safe now, and for that we’re glad. 

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