I am so heartbroken for Johnny who is so close to Jeff, actually lived with Jeff Beck and his wife Sandra for several months after Johnny's AH tragedy. They got his feet back on solid ground and a smile back on Johnny's face. I am heartbroken for Jeff's wife and family because clearly, he was a good and special man. And I am heartbroken for mankind because once again we have lost a true legend as well as a very special human being. Rest in peace Mr. Beck and thank you for all you did for us, for all the beautiful music and mostly for all you did to help our Johnny!

This poem always touched me. It has more meaning to me than just the obvious of a little boy who has passed and left his toys behind. This can be translated to anyone's passing and leaving behind their most prized possessions that they spent so much time with in life. And when I wanted to write a memorial for dear Jeff Beck this poem immediately jumped in my head regarding his precious guitars.  The first line could easily read:

His beautiful guitars are covered in dust 

But sturdy and staunch they stand...

                                                                               WE LOVE YOU AND WILL MISS YOU JEFF BECK!

Little Boy Blue

The little toy dog is covered with dust,
  But sturdy and staunch he stands.
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
  And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new
  And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
  Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
  "And don't you make any noise!"
So, toddling off to his trundle-bed
  He dreamed of the pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, an angel song
  Awakened our Little Boy Blue, —
Oh, the years are many, the years are long,
  But the little toy friends are true.

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
  Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
  The smile of a little face.
And they wonder, as waiting these long years through,
  In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue
  Since he kissed them and put them there.

From "The Poems of Eugene Field" 1911 Charles Scribner's Sons © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes