Thursday, 8 December 2016

For a Friend.

These words disappear,
like the scent of morning toast,
no longer lingering,
in this cold, cold
corridor of uncertainty;
no 'morning colleagues'
to light the way,
with a grin,
and tell us we are more,
much more than that;
no relentless spirit,
in that stride,
to fight off blow,
by blow,
by blow,
to teach us,
that to keep on
keeping on,
is intrinsic to the universal law
of not giving up.

No eighties pop
escapes your radio
your name's been taken
How many dramas
still sparkle in the ether of that room,
where your stoic, level-headed
handwriting crops up,
from time to time,
and spins me
like a loom,
weaves your voice into my head,
until it's swallowed
by the gloom.

Sometimes I'd drop you
at the cross,
to let you catch your thoughts,
before home.
'Alright Davie Mitchell?'
you would say,
to pull my leg,
from you it was ok.

left your post without permission,
we search for you,
in words and times,
and memories,
of wacky Wednesdays,
Friday lunchtimes;
and still more faded photocopies
bear your hand,
I try to say,
'Good morning'
through your door,
to help me find
dry land,
forgetful that you're more alive,
though gone,
set free,
beyond these walls,
a part of us is gone,
we left with you,
as life goes on.


  1. Oh, this aches as much as it is lovely. "more alive, though gone, set free." This makes my heart still and my soul hope.

  2. I hope you and yours had a very MERRY CHRISTMAS and are having a very HAPPY NEW YEAR. May we display your linked header on our new site directory, As it is now, the site title (linked back to its home page) is listed, and we think displaying the linked header will attract more attention.

  3. Oh, this is heartbreaking, David. I hope you are well. I miss your words.

  4. Nice article great post comment information thanks for sharing.


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