R.I.P. David Bowie

There's nothing I can add,
To what he's done himself,
To somehow enhance what he was, alive,
All into which he delved,

Don't matter I've loved him since I was ten,
Changes, my sister bought,
With a pumpkin-carving contest award,
That I won, but she act'lly carved a lot,

Since then, I sang Bowie in the shower,
Bought his vinyl like mad,
I've talked about his genius to my kids,
From Duke to insane lad.

But now he's gone,
Suddenly, no warning,
Though he knew for months that he was dying,
R.I.P. sir, you deserve our mourning.