I called him a Southern Jessie,
He called me a Northern Git.
We met at work years ago,
Our friendship an instant hit.
He went to the Lord on Friday,
Leaving Marion and the Boys.
He also left a friend behind,
Guess he didn't have a choice.
He leaves me with a Mick shaped hole,
That no one will ever fill
He encouraged me with his criticism,
And respected mine of his.
I looked forward to reading his work,
His mind took twists and turns.
He never had a bad word to say,
I'll miss him from this day.
Mick, you were a good friend,
You will always be a good memory.
Rest in Peace.
© Dave Timperley June 2012