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 ...
And now at last
the rain has passed.
See the flowers
freshened by showers
their petals bright
In garden beds
they raise their heads
and by the breeze
are gently teased
to fling off drops
Like little mops
in circles twirled
before they’re furled
and put away
for another day.