A grandfather I never knew, was a father my father never really saw
Or so it seemed that way
Instead, he sat at the R.S.A, talking sunken ships while sinking beer
His memories more buoyant than the vessels that failed them

He used to love his garden, I can remember that
Attacking the weeds like foreign soldiers on home soil

He may have kept peace in that boxed territory
But he couldn’t root out the infiltrators in his blood, the organic shrapnel
The leukemia shooting like a torpedo through his veins

Even then he didn’t share his dark secrets, at the end I mean
The young men crying, the pant wetting, the understandable cowardice
Of men not being men, but devils
And less
And more

I guess it’s the ultimate irony that he did so much to escape the flames
And then he was cremated anyway

R.I.P. Rex Gardiner

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