He’s Gone To Be A Star

“He’s gone to be a star.”
We tell her with stifled sorrow,
that the grey, jolly figure she worshipped
won’t be waiting for her smile tomorrow.
She looks up at the starry sky,
engrossed in wonder and surprise;
tries to work out how he got there,
without a car or the one that flies.
We give her the gift he left:
the dainty little garden gnome.
that was his mini doppelganger,
and it reminds us of his home.
The small, picturesque bungalow,
tucked away behind the village green,
with a charming sense of tranquillity;
like a sweet, fairytale scene.
She looks at the gnome with trust,
stares knowingly at his blue eyes,
recognising the stark likeness
to her jolly man, and she sighs.
Then to no-one’s surprise, she cries.
We pull her close, embrace her tight.
Fight back our own tears of grief,
as we all lament in to the night.
But when we send her to her sleep,
we see her sing to something afar:
a sweet ditty for her Grandpa,
who’s gone to be a star.

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