Holding a fingertip softly
on a battered pencil
this is your last memory of him
counting what stock they had left
before helping them to pack up 
knowing they would return without him

smiling faintly 
as the book stall said 
he was welcome to any book there
and Jenny at the cafe 
who wouldn’t let him go
without promising to come back,

standing there lost in thoughts
until they were all packed up 
reclining in everybody else’s eyes
until it was time for them to leave
and he had nowhere else to go
apart from back home.