The Gentle Humourist

He was able to laugh
At the little things.
At the irony of our lot.
At the play on words,
At the twig to pride,
At the frequent trials he got.

He was able to laugh,
And a tonic proved
To his friends when faced with pain.
How his joke or song
Could relieve the wrong.
Helping them to hope again.

He was able to laugh,
As the years progressed
And the things of youth slipped by.
When the trips and chores
And the Great Outdoors
Were but memories, and a sigh.

He was able to laugh
At the final bell,
When the umpire shouted "Game!"
Sensing paths once trod
Had been mapped by God,
Who had always known his name.


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