By day he played the markets;

At night he played the fool.

In youth he would play truant,

To get away from school.

In common with those round him,

In life he played a part:

A tragic, gilded aesthete

Who suffered for his art,

The tough, self-made financier,

Who played for all they’re worth

The hapless types endowed with

A silver spoon from birth,

...

Read and leave comments (5)

I knew the Braithwaite boy at school;

I knew him when he started work.

He bagged fruit at the market stall:

Quite slow, but never one to shirk.

His parents lived beside the park;

They were the type to put on airs.

They saw him as an office clerk

Or in the city selling shares.

But he was quiet, often teased,

And ready to accept his place;

The customers seemed...

Read and leave comments (5)

When you are young,

You wonder what life is about;

When you are old,

You still do not know.

It’s only when you’re middle-aged

That you think you understand,

Because of tears you shed at funerals

And the trail of your footprints in the snow.

Read and leave comments (8)