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June 7, 2015

 

 

Thirty years and nothing,

No contact, no hearsay.

The thought of re-uniting,

has my mind in disarray.

 

To meet up at the cricket ground,

was a brainwave, I have to say,

If he’s looking rather dodgy,

I can just go on my way.

 

He got me into music,

back then, in the day,

I’ll offer to buy him a beer;

I can’t see him saying ‘nay’!

 

Can he have changed ‘that’ much?

Until we meet, I just won’t know,

But we both still like cricket,

so it’s now on with the show.

 

And if he does my head in,

after the first nervous hour,

I can pray for divine intervention:

‘Please god, let there be a shower’.

 

And if it turns out well,

a second meeting there could be.

But one step at a time,

right now, will do for me.

 

Later that same day

 

The day went very well;

rain didn’t stop play.

Old memories flooded back;

we sure found plenty to say.

 

 

We spoke of happy times,

when we’d met at grammar school,

after he’d fallen off Mount Snowden:

– What a silly fool!

 

And how he wrapped his Mum’s car,

around a telegraph pole,

at Bowland’s ‘cow arc’ bend,

with me, in the passenger role!

 

And how he got me into music;

mostly rock and folk.

And introduced me to good ale;

he sure was my kinda bloke.

 

So yes, at the close of play,

we both were back on song,

a bit older and much wiser,

but we so, still got along.

 

And as Lanky, Lanky, Lancashire,

in our ears did ring out,

we turned to each other knowing,

our friendship, solid, without doubt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written for LDOK.net  

( Tonys Time Machine)

To hear the concluding part

to Harriet’s poem,

tune in on Wednesday

11am – 1pm

 

 

 

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