Ginger
A poem by Paul Frederick Clayton
Born in nineteen thirty five
To reside at “Tick Tock park”
A whole life marred by damaged lungs
Yet, gracious was his heart
Known to his friends as Ginger
This man of arduous health
He possessed an ever-cheery smile
Wit and intellect his wealth
Passionate was he for art
Racehorses, jazz, the Goons
And chrysanthemum had more value
Than mankind racing for the moon
With his water colour paintings
He tried to leave his mark
But alas his dreams were halted
For no mercy has the dark
Of the protagonist of this ode
I shall say only this
My father was a brilliant man
Who I shall always miss
A poem by Paul Frederick Clayton
Born in nineteen thirty five
To reside at “Tick Tock park”
A whole life marred by damaged lungs
Yet, gracious was his heart
Known to his friends as Ginger
This man of arduous health
He possessed an ever-cheery smile
Wit and intellect his wealth
Passionate was he for art
Racehorses, jazz, the Goons
And chrysanthemum had more value
Than mankind racing for the moon
With his water colour paintings
He tried to leave his mark
But alas his dreams were halted
For no mercy has the dark
Of the protagonist of this ode
I shall say only this
My father was a brilliant man
Who I shall always miss
