A departed friend

Last week saw the first anniversary of a friend's death. Jim was a big man who enjoyed his ale and his cricket. During one of his last visits to Northampton I spotted Jim walk along The Riding (by the side of the Fish Inn). He didn't see me. I thought about calling out to him but just watched instead. The attached little poem expresses my thoughts at the time.


Jim

Unseen,
I watched him, lumber on his way.
Old friend,
I sensed his time was short.

His gait no more would grace the crease.
Long gone his playing days.
Hands in pockets, strain his jacket girth.
Tie loose – shirt buttons missed.

How would it be the day he was no more?
This humble-proud. This kindly man.
Would tears be shed?
I knew they would. And shed one as I watched.