I sit in this once empty chair and
turn
my thoughts to how you’ve been
since last we spoke.
You had the 'flu and thus postponed
my visit.
So sad it turned into a cancellation;
it would have been a blast to say
farewell.
But such is life. You get on with
the task
of living: work or play; awake or
dreaming;
earning or spending; running,
walking… stopping.
It all just stops. When we were
boys, we never knew
a clock could run so fast. But
such is life.
It’s always later than we think,
the stoic
would say, and he’d be right. How
late it was
although we did not know, and so
our friendship
had no farewell blast. There was no
talk
of all our misdemeanours past. No
joking
about the time we started Matron’s
car.
No reminiscences about the time
I stayed at your house and you
pestered your dad
to let me try some aqua grappa (which
he did).
Now laughing now, but only endless
silence.
And yet I see you clearly in my
mind.
That face from boyhood’s many
years ago.
That rascal’s grin. That loaded laugh.
That attitude which broke so many
rules.
So vivid in my mind. So bright. So…
Julian.
It’s such a cliché, ‘Gone, but not forgotten.’
It holds some truth, though, for
today you are remembered,
with fondness, sadness, joy and love.
Returning to the silent here and
now,
I wonder at the turning of the
clock.
