
The thoughts of Tony give me a special emotion. He was a true sportsman and a gentleman to the core and I can never forget his lively commentary. I really feel that his death is untimely. He could have lived for many more years.
Here is a small poem from me that might reflect his epitaph.
Upon this grave
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Light not a lamp
upon this grave.
In it may perish
little flies.
Plant not a tree
upon this grave.
In it may sit a nightingale
and sing a lamenting song.
Write not an epitaph
upon this grave.
It may not last
In the course of passing winds.
Drop not a tear
upon this grave.
In it lies a living yore,
I am swept into an unknown shore.
Seasons are my friends,
Every spring is an endless cascade .
Here, the passing winds are mine
The dale of love is synonym.
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