On friendship (don’t let the fire go out)

In the morning
I drove to Brecon,
the Beacons peaking,
mulberry fogged and bearded,
the grey wisp of a winter’s day.

Later, in Ludlow,
the poignant bliss of visiting old friends,
not seen for a decade
or more.

The following day
I set out for Swansea.
Traffic was light,
plum and purple colours settled ablaze
over ploughed fields
and washed the feather tops of poplars.

Time flies, the hours, the days.
Sometimes, chance meetings take place,
Mostly, we pass on our apologies.
All too often,
just once per year,
“So very sorry we haven’t met,
take care, and
wishing good cheer.”

I am reminded that
friendships,
like misty mornings maybe,
blink, shiver, and then
(should we fail to take notice)
seamlessly
silently
unwittingly, even
they dwindle,
diminish and
disappear.

This poem is dedicated to Mr Bateman.

25/1/14.

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2 Comments on “On friendship (don’t let the fire go out)”

  1. Briony Patten says:

    A lovely poem, Marc. It’s a good reminder for us all, to invest a little more time and energy in our special friendships. It’s a bit like the saying, when somebody dies, nobody ever says ‘I wish I had spent more time in the office!’
    Lots of love,
    Briony
    x

  2. stew1e says:

    How true; and timely, as we say goodbye to another Season of Goodwill. . .


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