When Old Friends Awake

When old friends awake I have lost my voice totally, not even a whisper I pretend to stay on stage lift my left arm pretend there is a skull in my palm “Is this you Yorick? It's difficult to tell in this night so dark” Yorick, comes out OK, but the line disappears. Behind me, a theatrical murmur: “ I knew him well.” Turning around, and there, disappearing in the glare of the glorious sunlight flooding the flat I sensed my old friend Tom. His literary hero was Shakespeare and recited him whenever we had drinks on the table. I met him in Algarve, he was a semi-retired actor but sometimes had a job in clubs as an entertainer. He had tried in vain for me to act in his revue, in a comedy role. Well, if he saw me now he would have laughed.