The Time Telling

He always gave,
others pious took;
he never judged,
he was loved.

I smoke a lot,
he did not;
He saw March
but April not.

Good people pass
Bad people stay
I miss him
every single day.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

It is 1.30am in England, I am listening to Chet Baker and thinking about Frank. Words fail me. I miss him.

5 thoughts on “The Time Telling

    • He is not lost, when I look in my heart he is always there, I always know where to find, in our favourite music, poems, plays he will always will be with me. Thank you for your kind words.

  1. My father’s words in his hospital bed: “Don’t mourn for me, I’m finally out of here., in a better place. Mourn for yourselves because you won’t have me any more.”

    • Ina, Thank you. He was a mathematician but he would have loved that literary comment about talking him in the present tense. One of his favourite words was Cenotaph, an empty tomb, where the spirit is somewhere else. I know where Frank is everytime I see a Tree.


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