This fine poem by Randall Evans…
Unexpected memory of a corridor
Voices roaring down the hall
A birthday held when I was four
Not for me, for the jolly good fellow.
An old man’s song if ever bellowed.
On a night that feels both mad and mellow.
I mused a moment, child’s mind,
Who were his friends there by his side?
They loved him then and so did I.
Lucky were the men back then,
To know my grandad as a friend,
Someone on which they could depend.
I wonder if he would be proud
If he had lived to see me now.
The singing voices growing loud…
He blew the candles on the cake
One day he lay and would not wake
Now floating down a gentle lake.
Nothing in this world will last
Our candles burn into the past
And shadow we no longer cast.
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