Carry
You To Freedom
Light fading, rain falling down,
Wind blowing gently through the trees,
It's near the end of our day,
We're walking slowly to carry you to freedom.
Now near the top of the hill,
This was one of your favourite places,
The rocks stand out like giants waiting,
To help us carry you to freedom.
A gentleman so quiet and proud,
Rarely a word of anger spoken,
That cruel disease took your life away,
Leaving us to carry you to freedom.
At last upon the rocks we stand,
A fitting place for a much loved man,
No words just thoughts for you, we let you go,
For the wind to carry you to freedom.
Copyright Nick Allmark 2005
Written
after the death of Len Rogers - a Shropshire lad and a real
gentleman.