Saturday, 12 August 2017
I remember
I remember him
The smoky dance floor
And the boozy nights
Trad jazz band playing
We were in our teens
Laughing at nothing
When we both got stoned
He joined the forces
Then when I asked why
His answer was just
To see the wide world
Never imagined
Him with back pack on
The day that he phoned
It wasn't all true
Bare faced lies in fact
He bagged a job as
A special agent
Unknown to us all
'Til his wife called
Surprised I'd not known
Well push came to shove
They lost him abroad
Came back a hero
But dead to the world
Played jazz in the church
I'd pushed for that thought
Of times we were stoned
Image found at www.eveyo.com
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what a wonderful reflection Old Egg - I can't imagine you stoned
ReplyDeletelovely tale and poem, Old Egg :)
ReplyDeleteHe would have more heroic feats to show if not for the untimely demise!
ReplyDeleteHank