Words for Pete

You do the words, Pete

So who can do them now?

You always lead us from the middle,

Though after the white mice died

I still see your angry fist pounding the wall.

You do the words, Pete

Your words came to me out of London

To clear the gloom of my Eastern mists

Then warm laughter in those cold western times

But Dad’s cigarette ash was still carefully preserved.

You do the words, Pete

A constant presence as we grew,

Apart but still blood bound close,

Laughing at the ghosts in the Thatch

Yet I still felt your fear in that dark place.

You do the words, Pete

I couldn’t even catch the crab for you,

Yet your smile still looks at me,

Your words are still with me,

Your love will stay long after me.

– Gid, March 2012