Buddy

I never got to know you

As well as I would have liked

Most of my memories of you

Are like something viewed

Through a distant window

You

The quiet rebel

The pot smoking hippy

Who could have told me

Some great stories

 

I did hear the story

Growing up

Of the clean cut kid

In Buddy Holly glasses

Joining the Navy

Off to see the world

Though, as a child, I didn’t really understand

All the words:

AWOL

MP’s at my grandparents door

Disappeared?

How my mother said she’d prayed

Every night of those months

For her younger brother’s safe return

 

You returned

A new man

Independent

Free

Bearded and long haired

With John Lennon glasses

Having traded the uniform of war

For a uniform of peace

 

My memories of you maybe few

But no less bright

Me, a little boy

Being spun around ’til I was dizzy and giggling

Me, a young man

In need of a ride to work

And a place to spend the night

You were there

Never knowing

How you made me into a fan of The Doors that night

And changed my poetry forever

 

Yes, I write this for you

Because of you

Uncle Buddy

The pot smoking hippy a generation away

Who could still teach the young punk rocker

A thing or two

And now that you’ve broke on through

To the other side

I won’t say rest in peace

I know you will

Because you lived in peace

Free

Possibly the most free man

I’ve ever known

 

(For my uncle Henry “Buddy” Miles Dec. 7, 1954- Oct. 27, 2012.  Keep rockin’ on the other side, Uncle Bud!)

 

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3 thoughts on “Buddy

    • Thank you, Polly. I think my uncle would have been amazed that something like this was written for him, and so touched that it could have that effect. Thanks again.

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