MIll Cottage empty now
Goring is where silence reigns
The twenty fifth of June
He came to be
The twenty fifth of December
Sadly he
Closed his eyes
Within himself to be
George Michael left to roam
Eternity
Flowers now litter
His front door
Scattered parcels
On the floor
Memories will be
For evermore
He closed his eyes
And now he is no more
His voice his power
His wanton woe
It was his time
He felt he had to go
Alone asleep a passage
Wholly white
A myriad of angels
Good and bright