I Recall

..when poems used to write themselves
…when everybody was healthy
…when death happened to other people.
…When Death did not announce himself to me
When all that mattered was green grass in the park
When the future was a vintage bottle of wine
When the past was something that just was
When the present was resting easy on my handlebars
When smoking was something cool to do
When I could walk down the street
When people would introduce themselves to me.
Now Lemmy is my new best friend
And I am going round the bend with worry and concern
for those dearest to me in mortal harm
But not today anyway. This is a poem, not an obituary.

Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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