Gone Fishing 

 

The fish were there

gathered at the shoreline

almost asking to be caught.

 

But that was then.

 

They’re all gone now

the birds search in vain

standing statuesque now

but soon they’ll join them

replaced by plastic replicas.

‘Ey You 

 

I still miss his greeting,

“Ey you, yer Commie bastard,”

shouted loudly in the Manchester accent

he never lost,

and I smile.

 

There’s a plaque to him in the Square,

in recognition of the work he did

for this small town.

I look at it sometimes and feel sad.

 

And then I think

of all the wonderful people

we both knew

in many places,

and I smile.

 

And then I think

of the crazy unintended outcomes

of some planned events

and I laugh.

 

And the sadness is overwhelmed and leaves

defeated.