The Entertainer

And now we are left with our memories of you,

Like books on a shelf, waiting to be reread

With tales of whisky and Players and straw hats,

Sinatra and Jack and stories of old

Retold with a sense of humour that was there till the end,

All there in leather-backed volumes, preciously recalled.

“If I were any better I’d be fine,” you once said,

Humour defeating any pain,

Recollections of you stood there, in your signature suit and tie,

One thumb behind your braces, stretching the elastic, lips paused,

Another witty response waiting to emerge, waiting to entertain.

I can still hear your voice, even now

Telling stories of three bottles of whisky with your dad

On a Saturday afternoon and then driving home;

Of catching fish when you were meant to be catching

German submarines;

Of the people you had met and the places you had been.

Your memories became ours too.

Sat in a chair, whisky beside you, dog at your feet;

Radio on and a packet of Players somewhere near;

The small smile before a story started, some anecdote

With a punch line that never failed.

We will remember it all,

The paragraphs or chapters that we shared with you, now

Written down in the books in our minds,

The leather-backed volumes, there for the opening,

The remembering.

We all still remember your voice, your suits, your whisky and ties,

Although we can’t have you here, we have your stories, your memories,

And our memories of you.