The Donz
© November 26, 2021 Bob Anderson
From: Painter
Rest in Peace Brother

He was born on March thirty-one, almost an April fool
A pencil and a sketchbook were his only choice of tools
He couldn't hold his head up right, he had no muscles in his neck
A brace from Doernbecher was his only mobility tech
    And he always shared a smile; A kind word for everyone
    Everybody loved him; He was a favored son

He had an operation, they fused his vertebra
He lived in an apartment in Santa Monica, LA
He drew for Walt Disney, but he always had a dream
He wanted to make movies, his storytelling eyes were very keen
    He led as if a follower sparking hope where he appeared
    Everybody loved him and held him so very dear 

        His friends ask each other,
        “What would Don do?”
        Whenever they were in a jam or two

It started with a stomach ache that would't go away
They found it much too late; The big “C” was there to stay
I was with him at the hospice, my younger brother of six years
I held his hand as he departed letting go of the pain and the tears
    How I wish I knew him better, we grew up in the same house
    I regret “I was so busy,” so wrapped up in myself

.       Just like James Bond, an agent with a pencil
        And the passion of a storm
        He lives on, drawings on walls hanging
        Waiting to be reborn

        I miss you Don