Thursday, 20 July 2017

A Shadow Of His Former-self

My friend, Peter, had prowess,
But sadly he now has less;
He treats life like a game of chess
And has been under lots of duress.

He has been at death's door
A multitude and numerous score,
As he has not been well
Suffering a tormented spell.

He drinks to depths of despair
While not looking after himself,
But he is still respectfully fair
And shares out his wealth.

He is kind hearted to the departed,
And paid for a friend's funeral,
He is an art apart as he parted
With his benefits to the needful.

He has been given a year to live,
And doesn't take this to heart,
As his mind is now like a sieve
Sprinkling memories to depart.

He is my mate and I respect him so,
And while his memories he does sow,
I wanted him to respectfully know
That I don't mind him smoking the blow.

Copyright Andrew Stevenson 20/07/2017

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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