Below an overcast sky
A crack appears in my cloud of guilt
This widening chasm darkened
Distorting the edges of distant memories
A dear friend, passed away, last week
I didn’t get to say goodbye
His funeral, was private
And I need to send a condolence card
For these seven days of my life
The card has stayed on my table
I’m trying to write to his bereaved wife
But my hand’s unsteady and not able
I’m yet to put pen to card
I’m yet to allow myself to cry hard
I’m yet to push myself to go an extra yard
Now, I must get my head out of these clouds
Lift my quill, for a mate, who was brave and proud
Ivor Steven (c) Jan 2020

