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Poem for John
A heron flew over Loch Barvas
It’s long, languorous wings
Beating the air like waves
Rolling on to the shore
At Fiogar
And I thought of you.
A kaleidoscope of memories,
Such fun
Such delight at your wit
Your stream of consciousness
Vivified by an iridescent
Cornucopia of language.
Like Heraclitus you knew
That you cannot step
In the same river twice.
Everything flows.
Who knows
“Maybe we shall touch the Happy Isles
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.”
Know this, dear, dead Friend
You will live
As long as our hearts pump blood
And our cerebral synapses
Sparkle at your memory