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There are questions asked by every pair of lovers:
Best-liked author? Favourite colours?
His were red,
Because of all it signified and said;
And black and white –
The darkness and the light
Of following Fulham;
For when they lost, grim midnight fell,
Banished only by winning’s bright spell;
And later, when he became unwell,
His smile drawn tight by cancer’s claws,
Closing, one by one,
Fulham was family –
The father lost; the son
He’d never known; himself, half-grown.
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Death’s always past all reason,
But why, for God’s sake, why
Did he have to miss this season?
In a directors’ box, omnipotent, in the sky,
Pete’s pulling strings,
And giving all the Fulham players wings.