Friday, 22 August 2014

August 22: Pass me the Kleenex ...

I sit here with a Kleenex, dabbing tears that stain my face
It seems that age has caught me, and it’s put me in my place
It is not me, please understand, though I’ve aches that I can claim
But blokes who I have known before, their lives beset by pain

Life is such a miscreant; things are often just not clear
Why do these things just creep up, and whack you in the ear
There’s no simple no rhyme or reason, why it works this way
And it is so very, very difficult, to know just what to say

But these blokes I know are fighters, and they will not give in
Surrounded by friends and family, they do their best to grin
They take on what life it throws at them, never will they concede
But all I can do is wish them well, that I do is guaranteed

It might take weeks, months or years, but this fight it will not end
And I hope this rhyme expresses, the feelings that I send
They know we are all with them, as they parry, thrust then strike
Best wishes to the both of you, tell your invader, “take a hike”

We all think there is so little, we can do to get them through
Does what we want mean anything, is there anything that I can do
But what is the real alternative, I cannot just sit and wait
None of us could do that, never, not for any mate

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