A poem about: A Quiet presence, a smile a nod always…

A Quiet presence, a smile a nod always sincere. Never assuming always accepting, a life well lived, never a cross word. Travelling with Phyllis in their motorhome. Though memories faded at the end he never forgot those he held dear. Ray was always happiest outdoors, pottering in his garage and workshop, he built clocks, sheds, could turn his hand to anything. When in the garden he was always getting soaked from the hosepipe as he maintained his lawn and fruit trees. From an era of make do and mend, Ray still had all his apprenticeship tools. 90 years old. He left this earth the way he lived in it, quietly without a fuss, he will be sorely missed and forever loved. His pride and joy was his land-rover, his 4th son.

In quiet corners, presence felt,
A nod, a smile, warmth he dealt.
Ray, sincere, with heart so clear,
Acceptance shining, year to year.

With Phyllis by his steadfast side,
In motorhome, on roads they'd glide.
Memories may have softly blurred,
Yet love for kin was undeterred.

Outdoors he thrived, in nature's hold,
In workshop's hum and woodwork's fold.
Clocks and sheds with skill bespoke,
Hands that crafted, yet gentle spoke.

Garden's lush, with tender care,
Hosepipe showers he'd often wear.
Tools from times of mend and make,
With age-old wisdom, he'd undertake.

Land-rover, cherished as a son,
A testament to life well-run.
At ninety, softly he took leave,
In quiet grace, with none to grieve.

Loved and missed, our hearts will yearn,
In memory's light, his spirit burns.

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In quiet corners, presence felt, A nod, a smile, warmth he dealt. Ray, sincere, with heart so clear, Acceptance shining, year to year. With Phyllis by his steadfast side, In motorhome, on roads they'd glide. Memories may have softly blurred, Yet love for kin was undeterred. Outdoors he thrived, in nature's hold, In workshop's hum and woodwork's fold. Clocks and sheds with skill bespoke, Hands that crafted, yet gentle spoke. Garden's lush, with tender care, Hosepipe showers he'd often wear. Tools from times of mend and make, With age-old wisdom, he'd undertake. Land-rover, cherished as a son, A testament to life well-run. At ninety, softly he took leave, In quiet grace, with none to grieve. Loved and missed, our hearts will yearn, In memory's light, his spirit burns.