It’s a sad and relentless time
waiting for a friend to die.
Time crawls towards the moment
when he will be gone
and we cannot return afterwards.
All the memories, jointly held,
will be mine, alone, then.
Half of their meanings gone
and all of the living embrace
of a friendship vanished.
Gallagher
25Sep2024
Christchurch
– About Gerry Briggs in Paris
approaching his end. He died
on October 3rd.
“No one will ever know
that we lived,
that we touched the streets with our feet
that we danced joyfully,
No one will ever know
that we gazed at the sea
from the train windows,
that we breathed
the air that settles
on the café chairs,
No one will ever know
that we stood
on the terrace of life
–Nino Pedretti, “Nobody Will Know”
Not mine. But I really liked it – hence the re-post. Thanks to Tom Lynch
for making me aware of it.
I saw a mother holding a young girl
of perhaps a year and a half.
And as I looked,
I found that I could feel
what the little girl was feeling
as she hugged her mother.
The enclosing warmth,
the certain sense of security
and the loving protection
against all
the new and confusing mysteries
of the world around her.
It was, for me, and the small girl,
…everything…
for those few moments it lasted.
An endless safe place to be; for that time.
And then she chose to go down
onto the floor again
to walk around
and see what was there.
Her mother stood up behind and followed.
Just a woman with a child.
And yet so much had passed
and touched me
in just those few moments
gallagher
christchurch
21Jan25