One half gone, of my reason for being, 

Heart torn in two, smile dims, but never fades.

He who questioned all with answers yet known,

Thoughts deep below still waters, cold be found.

Winston smoke filled air, present as he stood

Six-feet-three; a mountain of mystery.

Commanding authority, ere Sargent,

Korea nor Vietnam claimed the spirit.

Son, brother, father-someone to us all, 

Gentle nature cutting through the fog.

Sixty-five Impala, your fourth child loved, 

Second only to the pearl handle snub.

Memories rapid, like a river wild, 

Flowing as the tears, that go on for miles.