I knew a man and now he is gone.

I did not know him well; just at bowls.

He seemed kind, a cheerful happy man.

I liked him but I did not really know him.

 

One day I heard he was dying of cancer.

I did not visit him; he had many friends,

why should he wish a visit from me,

just another face from bowls?

 

He came to the club, one last time.

I did not recognize him, so thin, so gaunt.

He was dying before my eyes, tired pale.

Then he was gone!

 

I wondered if I should have been to see him?

Should I have held his hand?

Should I have said something, anything?

I had known a man and now he was dead.

I had not done or said anything!

 

But that does not mean that I do not care.

 
 

David Garlick, Sidney, June, 2001