Family Tree
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The family tree grows tall and true,
Its leafy branches cradle me and you.
Like every tree it has a season
When branches drop, sometimes without reason.
Our tree has suffered great distress,
Not merely damaged, but under major stress. 
Our central trunk now counts the cost
Of our sad and undesired for loss.

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A life remarkable, lived through war.
Lived with grace, not counting score.
Instead counting strokes across the greens
And fairways of pleasant Surrey scenes.
A life devoted from age nineteen
To his fellow traveller, through postwar dream.
From East End roots to West end shows
And musicians’ diaries the fixers chose.

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Abiding memories we all must have
Of generous parties, good times and bad.
Of cups of tea in which spoons could stand
And Embassy & Senior Service suddenly banned.
His driving skills were leant in tank
But skills passed on, two generations thank.
On the phone he’d say before he’d bid us bye
“I’ll just pass you over now to Vi…”

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Another season awaits our tree, 
And future blossoms we’ll no doubt see.
Our tree’s robust and will bloom again
And deep etched in bark, we’ll see his name.
A life well lived provides the feed
For our tree to nurture future seed.
Goodbye to one loved by you and me,
It’s quite amazing is our tree. 
Keith Murphy©