Michael GordonHICKSome people say there is no heaven, But I know this cannot be. For each time I gaze at the moon, Dad, I see your blue eyes smile at me. And each day I pass by the farmyard, I enjoy the aroma of hay. But in it I smell your scent, Dad In the fields on a Summer's day. And each time I hear a whistle Or a Cornish choir rejoice, The music warms my heart, Dad For in it I hear your voice. At midwinter the family gathers To create shared new memories which last. But the Christmas table allows us To savour the tastes of the past. Three friends joined you this year, Dad In a heaven that is as real As the memories our senses bring us And the love in our hearts we still feel. With love from Margaret, Angie, Jennie and family.
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