The Marathon Man
I had a friend who was to me
the very best a friend can be,
so loyal, warm and humorous,
a Cornish Celt to truly trust.
I see him now with smiling face,
so strong and fit to win the race,
the problems in our working days
diminished by his winning ways.
An educator, kind and caring,
valued knowledge always sharing
with all his students, most who knew
here was a teacher fair and true.
His talent was to harmonize
some fun and knowledge in their eyes,
humanity and Science combined
within his teaching, firm but kind.
And to his colleagues straight and true,
courageously expressed his view.
his pride of birth-right without rant
or bigoted degrading cant
Accepted without prejudice
what lesser men turn into vice.
so many warmed towards this man,
enchanted by the charm he span
And partnered by his loving wife
he welcomed friends into his life.
their table had the best of fare
for this man had a talent rare,
His cooking skills so finely honed
that many a chef could be dethroned
so proud my wife and I would be
when welcomed to their sanctuary.
Through working days a course we ran
deriving strength to carry on,
his wise words guided me to see
the best time when we both broke free
Work routine however worthy
never matching freedom’s journey,
Both found ourselves two new careers
though did not have close friendships cheer.
Then circumstances and neglect
reduced our contact and respect
and though we met from time to time
our friendship suffered a decline
I never thought the steps of time
approaching swiftly from behind
would overtake him in life’s race
and sickness claimed such strength and grace.
I'm one of many, this I know,
and not alone to miss him so,
but I've no faith to ease the strife
with promises of afterlife.
Of him past memories all that’s left
now I am of my friend bereft
with life a sadder, bleaker place
never again to see his face.
Copyright © Rick Howarth | Year Posted 2017
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