The Story
The Gentle Rogue
Always the philosophical thief
he stole your sorrow with
humor,
wove threads of the world in a
warm blanket
to wrap around friends,
family.
A Samaritan who had no use
for crosses and nails,
he always knew he would
return,
but couldn't tell you where,
only that it would be brighter
there.
With the needle of wit
he pierced my inflated ego,
destroying illusions
with such grace that I had to
laugh.
How I laughed.
At times he helped me across
dark streets,
painting clear crosswalks with
soft words.
There was something in the
sound of his voice
that you could follow and never
lose your way.
He carried...and never
dropped us....
Poem about Jerry by close friend and Poet, Thomas Stetzler
A visit to the Sears Tower. My dad and uncle Charlie in this photo.
Shad Holland shared a photo.Reply
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