Grimble,
Man of one jumper.
Action trousers
Hiking boots.
I never saw you hiking
But always hiking boots.
Grimble,
Man of simple tastes.
Coffee,
Tobacco,
Hashish,
Beer.
Chocolate digestives.
Always chocolate digestives.
When you were young
you climbed trees to halt a motorway.
I met you when you were older.
Erecting a marquee in excited fields.
You enjoyed mischief.
Mastering a cynical sarcasm,
the alchemical irony of which,
effortlessly transformed
the lead of other’s misfortune
in to pure comedy gold.
You applauded order.
Resigned when the tories were re-elected.
Died with your heart still broken.
Your silence never allowing to heal.
Your shack on the beach
let in more water than light.
You weren’t pleased to see me.
But then,
your life was nothing to do with me.
Just,
Sitting on folding chairs,
drinking charace brandy chai.
What did we discuss
on those long shifts behind the bar?
I don’t recall a single subject.
Only,
you enjoyed our jokes,
more than when
the kids
stole your biscuits.
a single subject.
.
Ben Greenland
Is this about my dear friend Grimble of the mumbles? I miss him so
Comment by Stuart Watson on 24 November, 2020 at 4:06 am