Eulogy to a Moth

We found it dead in our daughter's bed

It was light as a feather

And we wondered whether there were any words

To say, with which to pay our respects

To this creature, on that would barely feature

In our day to day lives

One which only ever arrives

With the sun down, light switched on

A true fly by night on paper wings

This airborne goth

Sleep well, little moth

Shane

You set me spinning

A wizard of mastery

and mystery

Joyous to watch

Your skill and enthusiasm

To be bamboozled by googlies

Flustered by flippers

To be treated to a masterclass

Every time

And now, never again

Will we hear the words

'Bowling Shane'

Brings a tear to my eye

Never again that zinc cream smile

Sits heavy in my chest

Though I wanted to

I could never bowl as well as you

But there was no one better

To emulate

No one better to hate

In all those Ashes defeats

And no one better to miss

Not that we wanted to so soon