Our Last Mourning

by Stephen Watson

In that room of white-washed stone
So clinical and so clean
Where I held your hand and stroked your face;
There lay the ending of my dreams.

Your handsome, broken body
Held a smile that showed no fear.
When told it was time to go;
I whispered ‘Goodbye Paji’ in your ear.

No more will we watch the football
Or explore old cemeteries
Nor play the game you bought me
For when I lost; an excuse to tease.

We will never see another movie
Or pull our punches in the dark;
Shout and scream at one another
Nor feed the squirrels in the park.

For every day that's followed I've
Kept your memory shining bright;
Until in time we meet again;
Somewhere in the afterlife.

(For Balbinder 'Paji' Singh 1974-2000)

30-Nov-2012

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