MY FRIEND BERNARD

My best and oldest friend Bernard,
Though at the time I failed to realise it.
Unfailingly dependable, good, old Bernard.
One of the old school of kindly people.
A workmate and a close neighbour.
Older, benign and so much wiser.
A first-aid man and a coal miner.
Me ,a mere youth, a stripling.
He a kind of father figure.
He had two sons older than myself,
And Susan, a younger daughter.
He and I shared the same hobby.
Both of us keen gardeners.
Me, with my large allotment plot.
In which often he liked to potter.
Come holiday time he'd be left in charge.
No task it seems too burdensome or long.
Taking care of my cat, pet fish and house.
A true friend, a God send, no bother.
And you don't get too many of those,
For a pound, much less for half a crown.
Perhaps because he was such a willing horse,
I, in my youthful pride I failed to value him.
Simply because he was always there for me,
Used, abused, like part of the furniture.
Eventually I moved some miles away,
Regrettably I failed to keep in touch.
Simply sent a Yule card and a gift at Christmas.
He retired, worked out, tired, later heard he'd died.
Gone to meet his Maker, Lord kindly bless him.

Author's note. Dedicated to my late friend Bernard Grocott......a true friend.

Tags: Sad, Love,