You weíre a Pisces, with skin the color of leather.  
Tough as they come. †
In oil-stained Wranglers and mud dusted boots, your hands callused.  
Humor came so easily to you, effortless really.  
I can still hear that wild howl.  

You were my fatherís only brother, with you I was safe.  
Still alive in my visons of younger days, boxing with our Dad in the attic.  
Humid summer nights, loud rock accompanying.  
Always singing Good Bye Blue Sky.  
With my eyes closed, I can go back.  

Sepia hued photos, a baseball glove and pitcher stance.  
Twilight days of your youth settle in my hands.  
Youíve passed on Owen, you never got to retire.  
You always said your peace, but I never got to say mine.  
I owe you an apology, placed here for now.
Written by IntoTheRain
Published | Edited 15th Jun 2023
Author's Note
This is an elegy. He was born in Omaha, Nebraska. He died last year from Covid.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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