Fragments And Reflections

One Of The Last

We sat and laughed and drank,

I smoked a pipe and we were

Telling stories and pretending it

Was just another evening.

Fine dining – roasted chicken with

Asparagus plucked from the field,

A pavlova stuffed with fruit

And cream and sugar,

A heart attack waiting to happen –

Followed by cheeses,

Hard and soft and dripping,

Then African coffee, bitter

Like the evening's undertones.

It wasn't just another gathering,

Of course, and deep down inside

Each of us knew it, the years

Of camaraderie soon to be done.

If we could have we would have

Gotten high and drifted up there

With the night's rain clouds,

Cool and fresh and far away,

But instead the bottles sat,

Empty vessels, dark and fragile,

The perfect metaphor:

Lion's Gate and Beaujolais

And Casillero del Diablo and

Robert Mondavi and Isla Negra

And a Château Lassus Médoc,

All topped off with a Taylor's

Vintage Port, last season's

Plum brandy all gone.

And the tunes played all night -

'See what the boys in

The back room will have...'

'Je ne regrette a rien...'

'Ne me quitte pas...'

'I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel...'

'You fill up my senses,

Come fill me again...'

'Take me home, down

country roads...'

'Hello darkness my old friend,

I've come to talk with you again...'

'I can still remember how that

Music used to make me smile...'

'Low lie the fields of Athenry...'

- Us wondering whether we

Would see the like again,

Yet secretly knowing we

Never will, not like this.

24th May 2015