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Noel


There's that feeling of sadness
At the passing of a friend
That period of recollection
When a life comes to its end,
The bitter sweet remembrance,
The twinkly eyed smiling face,
The air of joy and humour
That he brought to the place.

The weekly gift of  milk
He brought for his brew
Then he'd sit there quietly
For maybe a moment or two,
Gathering his thoughts perhaps
For my weekly interrogation,
And I'd give him my report on
The Centres current situation.

Asking not from idle curiosity
But from real concern and care,
Of real commitment and pride
We were hanging on in there.
Sometimes he'd just sit quietly
Sometimes just sit and smile
A man of quiet dignity
A man of presence and style.

He'd  drink his tea with pleasure
To the last drop in his cup
And then pass his comments
On my Sitrep's summing up.
And now he's gone on before
For the formal Inception
To that squaddies final mess.
I hope it passes his inspection

For if he finds it wanting he
Won't  need to scream and shout
But with his air of quiet authority
Good humouredly sort things out.
So many meetings and partings
As each life draws to its end
Knowing you was special, Noel
We'll all miss you my friend










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