Posted by: Peadar Ban | February 3, 2010

Gentle To The End

(In Memoriam: R.L.R.)

If I did not see him slowly walking
Up or down the street, or bend to loosen
Soil around a plant, touch a single leaf,
I knew that I would see him soon, and he
Would stop, look up and shyly wave at me.

Once or twice a week through passing years
He, voice always soft, more a whisper
Or sigh articulate than speech outright,
Would treat me to a wry, brief
And gentle comment on some passing strife.

Now, these I may no more pleasure to hear
Nor mark my day with his faithful
Witness to the natural piety
Of a routine and quiet life.

He would look around from time to time
As he went inside before the night
As if to take a measure of the day.
Certify, at last, all was well and right.
Then gentle to the end he’d close the door.


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