White Buffalo

He was not tall, he was not stout
at least not in body
at least not at his age.

In youth he was golden, a toe headed boy
exploring all around him, questing for knowledge.
His thirst lead him far and wide, his eyes covered many miles.
When he was older, they turned to books when his body failed him.

He was handsome, he was regal
his soul drew people in close, even if he thought himself a shy man.
He was one of the last of the truly kind hearted people
he touched all around him, and they were better for it.

In retrospect we deify those that have died, those that were close
this man was not to be deified, but he was to be celebrated.
The world lost a native son, one of the classics,
he brought joy to all who encountered him,
those with a unkind word for him-
were rotten sons of bitchs.

He was a good man, a very good man
he was a fine father, and a loving husband indeed,
he was a good man, a strong hearted man.
the lord couldn't wait,
so unkindly, he became greedy
and took this one from us.