It was a stupid thing to ask,
how is the pain?
your reply,
“it’s painful, that’s all I can say”
delivered with your trademark wit,
so close to the end of things.
As expected, 3am this morning
you took your leave,
quietly as usual, understated
the text message brief,
like a wartime telegram.
Me, left behind to grieve
somewhat disingenuously
hope you’re walking hand in hand
with lovely Jane once more, both
resplendent in outrageous hippy kaftans.
I only loved you in that way
of which men cannot speak,
that manly way,
delivered through a handshake
a patted back, a knowing nod,
a mate, a mucker, a friend.
*
© Graham Sherwood 08/2019
grahamrichardsherwood.co.uk 