Comments about Pete Crowther
A Biker's Funeral
(In memory of Stephen (Reggie) Pearce
The wind blows cold through the churchyard trees
and sadly tolls the passing bell
as mourners shuffle up the leaf-strewn
narrow path between the leaning stones.
He was just twenty-five, so young,
so full of life, and love of life
and laughter — killed outright one night
in a head-on crash on his motorbike.
From far and wide we’ve gathered here
to pay respect to our young friend.
I’ve never seen the church so full,
oh death, how can you be so cruel?
Who will forget this ...
Like a young girl
Across the dewy fields
So April comes—
Welcome as the cowslips,
Fresh as the first lambs of spring.