The Swan with two Nicks

We met on the usual terms

Of affectionate endearment

Bred over more than half a century.

Our talk flared into a satisfying silent numbness

Chris talked of what was to be done

Generally nothing, I thought, but I do remember

Chris praising Farage's intervention

On behalf of the persecuted Yezedis of northern Iraq.

You live and learn. Only in this case we didn't. One of us. 

Nobody came and nobody went.

Now, I can recall Chris's love of classical Greek, his disappointment at a life led awry, my nagging worry for my friend.

Neither of us knew that was to be our final time to drink tea and talk of this and that.

◄ icons of the sun

DRINKING WHERE THE RIVER BED IS DRY ►

Comments

No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message