The rafters bare the roof is gone
Starlings roost where bacon hung
And nails grow thin and rust away
Where boots were often on display
The smells have vanished in the breeze
Of paraffin and ropes and cheese,
Of salted fish, Milanda bread,
The smell of rotting pine instead.
The counter where he nudged the scales
Is bleached by sun and winter rains,
A spider makes a web in vain
Around the dusty window pane.
And where the flour was kept in sack
Where hungry mice might find a snack,
The concrete floor is bare and stark,
And all around is bleak and dark.
Rev Dr John Ferguson
My dear Uncle John passed away 06/01/09, life ticks by in a comfy routine but then in a space of a few months it changes and the friends and securities that you took for granted have gone, and life has lost it's colour, and the brighter the day the sadder you feel.
