(For My Friend Tim)

“Friend” is a word that we use every day.
We talk of a friend and have plenty to say.
Well, this is my rhyme for this friend of mine.
And no better friend will you ever find.

When I think of Tim and my memories dear,
it often involves the hill and some beers.
We’d walk through Betws to the stables and more,
I can picture us now, not old and not sore.

We’d talk about this and then about that.
We’d put the world right, from where we were sat.
We’d entertain folks with a story or two.
Or the fact that I chose to never wear shoes.

But through all the banter and shenanigans,
we two would chat about life and such things.
We’d part and meet each time with a grin,
and pick right on up with our understanding.

When he told me his fate, I was upset and crying.
I was angry and sad; my friend was now dying.
But he and his ways were the calmness for me.
We talked, and we smiled, and then I could see.

He’d thought long and hard as a dying man does,
and he’d made his peace; there was no need to fuss.
Gerry and Rosie had brought him back home,
and there in the borders his spirit could roam.

We knew he was leaving; he’d made all his plans.
He’d seen all his loved ones and shaken our hands.
He’d hugged so many with love and affection.
His eyes full of love, his smile my redemption.

And now that he’s up there on those fluffy clouds.
He’ll never be gone; it won’t be allowed.
He’ll be there when I drink, laugh, fight or cry.
And he’d better be there when I too, must die.

So come all and join me in praise of my friend.
Send love and big hugs that we’ll never let end.
Raise glasses and cheer for a mountain of men.
Until we meet upstairs for beers once again.

This poem is dedicated to Tim’s memory and to Gerry and Rosie
for the love and care they gave Tim for so long. There are not enough
words in the world to thank you both for what you have given and done for Tim.