I set out this morning
Down the road alone the river
Which I take there once a year
My walk will take me by the shore
Then inland a mile or more
From the cold sea spray

A small wood stands upon the hill
An old house near it lies in ruin
Forgotton long ago
But here in the clearing
Rounded up with moss and ivy
Is your lonely grave

At dusk I will make my way
Along the lanes and though the fields
To where my cottage is
But before I step inside my bed
I look up at the stars that we had
All those years ago

So here’s for Uncle Pat