This is a poem about the last time we were able to walk together before his health declined too far.
OUR FRIEND, DICK
His name was Dick.
He made us laugh,
With wit so quick
But, alas,
The spark he had,
Has disappeared,
It is so sad.
We used to walk,
Along the beach.
He’d leave me standing,
Out of reach.
It worried me,
He walked so fast.
But then the penny,
Dropped, at last.
Up way ahead,
I saw him fall.
'Twas nothing I
Could do at all.
I helped him,
Stand upon his feet.
A young girl helped,
She was so sweet.
We carried on,
And climbed a ramp.
But halfway up,
He stopped with cramp.
Another girl,
(A comely wench),
Walked him to,
A sidewalk bench.
And made him rest
The girl stayed too,
At my behest.
And then I went,
To get the car.
I wasn’t long,
It wasn’t far.
I knew this walk,
Would be our last.
But memories of,
Those days long past,
Would stay with me,
Throughout each mile,
Each one remembered,
With a smile.
I visited him,
Just once a week.
He shook my hand,
But didn’t speak.
But still he knew,
That I was there.
As I communed,
With Dick and Clare.
We shared so many.
Times of old.
There’s tons of tales,
That can be told.
I’m sure those times,
Were in his head.
Those times weren’t sad,
But fun, instead.
Could look behind,
Those eyes that,
Showed a man so kind.
For Dick will always,
Be our friend,
And we'll be his,
Beyond the end.