Tomorrow I'll dust the photo in the silver frame, the one with you dancing in the poring rain. I carry on as normal making cups of tea and watching T.V. and every day is just the same. Even though you are gone, the faint memories of you still linger on.
In your younger days, when you were just a boy, the world was your own personal playground and you treat it like a toy, as you grew up, you became a man even though in truth, you were still in your early teens.
You were a role model to your nephews and rebellious right until the end, dear uncle, you were never just part of the family you were also my closest friend.
One day I caught a glimpse of a picture of you, you looked happy in those days, when you danced to the sound of rock ‘n role and rode your Norton bike with pride with every part of your soul.
During my darkest days, I wished for you to be here. I needed you by my side; to me you were a hero, a man all dressed in black, as you paraded around with Elvis's image and silver studs adorned upon your back.
Tomorrow I'll dust the photo in silver frame. The one passed down from your father, who was given it as a gift from his mother, who kept it for years after receiving it her brother.
This is a Poem about my uncle Graham who is sadly no longer with us. R.S.V.P Graham Winterbottom.
