He filed up my cup first and then saved the morsels for himself. He sang to me his verses and then saved my soul for myself. He was a King, a prophet, a leader who humbly followed his dreams. The dreams were real to him and now I dream his dreams. He stood tall in his saddle and now his horse leads him to his resting place. Goodbye by dear friend, to the light which shines through your golden hair braided with sunshine. Goodbye. I'll miss you tomorrow and then for every tomorrow. Tony Muraski