Ode to Jim

Beneath the broad expanse where starlings flew, There lived a soul whose kind we barely knew. In humble guise, by quiet gardens lined, He walked among us, sighted yet as blind. His hands, though worn, would lift the fallen broom, His steps would pause to sweep a stranger's gloom. Not heralded by trumpet nor by drum, Yet in his simple way, his kingdom come. He’d mend a fence, repair a broken gate, No task too small, no hour too late. A neighbor’s need was call enough to stand, With tools at ready, heart and helpful hand. We’d nod, we’d wave, yet scarce a word exchanged, Our busy lives by minute hands arranged. His kindness, like the dew on morning glades, Unseen, yet felt, in cool and quiet shades. Then twilight came, a thief at close of day, And stole his gentle breaths of life away. We stood beside his gate, but found it closed, The guardian gone, his earthly chapter posed. Now silent lies the street where laughter played, A symphony of memories slowly fade. But in the rustle of the autumn leaves, His spirit whispers through the weeping eaves. Oh, let us not forget this quiet man, Who shaped a life with unassuming plan. To live, to love, to gently leave a mark, A beacon glowing softly in the dark. For though we mourn the light that dimly shines, A tapestry of joy his life entwines. In every cheerful bloom and shaded bough, His legacy, a part of now. Thus, let us raise our cups to skies so vast, To him, the friend we knew, once shadows passed. The world spins on, his echo in the breeze— A melody of peace, beneath the trees.