Silence filled the valley,
A small bird bowed its head.
“Tweet a message far and wide,
alas, our John is dead.”
Twenty lizards formed a guard,
Resplendent in the sun,
An egret looked down from afar,
“Our friend has had his run.”
A Kookaburra screeched on high,
Its song became a thrum,
Joined by crickets one by one,
They played their valley drum.
Cymbals played with tiny feet,
as ants began their tune.
Hi-hats now forever quiet
The bass drum left the room.
The snare, the tom tom,
sighed with grief, paradiddle tears.
This one, that one, this one, that,
became his charioteers.
To guide him on his final walk,
Through eucalypt and briar.
To take him gently to his lake,
his frogs had made a pyre.
He sat at rest among his friends,
To watch the fire burn.
“At rest at last,” he thought. “at last,
I’ve no need for concern."
A night owl stood on guard close by.
its hoot was barely heard.
We’ve precious John here with us now.
Not a creature stirred.
Johnny Dick - June 16th, 1942 - January 6th, 2017
Amazing drummer and musician.
Talented writer. Lover of life.
My dear friend. May you rest in peace.