His dance lived on dustbins, in deserts and sand-dunes,
Off-shore and on snow and by heart and by hand.
Its foot lifted light as the smile of a stranger.
Its print left in laughter, confirming a friend.
A beat at its heart, it bound others to join in,
Found others to tread in its wake. In its steps,
Wherever the sun was, its meeting of measures,
Its rhyming of rythms, was a sharing of hopes.
And all who were touched feel the beat still resounding,
Still rounding the Earth, a perpetual wave
Of the laughter, the hopes, the smile, the support, and
The presence of one who was gifted with life.
Off-shore and on snow and by heart and by hand.
Its foot lifted light as the smile of a stranger.
Its print left in laughter, confirming a friend.
A beat at its heart, it bound others to join in,
Found others to tread in its wake. In its steps,
Wherever the sun was, its meeting of measures,
Its rhyming of rythms, was a sharing of hopes.
And all who were touched feel the beat still resounding,
Still rounding the Earth, a perpetual wave
Of the laughter, the hopes, the smile, the support, and
The presence of one who was gifted with life.
(A poem for Paul by Allan Sutton http://www.paulomemorial.org.uk)
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