Ink and Wax
The curve of the cold candle’s wick
Favored the bend of a shepherd’s crook
‘Forget not to remember your friends’
The poet’s last line before the ink’s brook:
A smear trail to announce such an end
That didn’t scan with the rhythm of a life
So sharply keen on just the right measure
And beat to tell of love, glory and strife.
Brought lowly by a coronarial infarct
And too many years bent over parchment and pen
And too few rounds about an athlete’s track:
We agree 59 years too young to find one’s end.
Now dry ink and spent wax covered the page
Discovered a fortnight since the death.
“Constable, come quick!” cried a neighbour
Due to an odour that fair caught one’s breath.
If this lesson be the means to find lighter ends,
N.B.: forget not to remember your friends.