The little boy who never grew,
who lost you by the chocolate mice,
who walked the blistered avenues,
and failed to take his own advice.
The girl who prayed with unmarked palms,
who built a church in Oxford Street,
who wrote The Little Book Of Qualm
and never meant you to retreat.
The couple who could never be,
who met beneath an uncrossed star,
who ran aground far from the sea
and sat and watched the passing cars.
The poet who abandoned words,
who turned to numbers for the truth,
who lost all sense of the absurd
and never rediscovered youth.
The teacher who would never learn,
who spoke a language of her own,
who could not stand you taciturn
and built a life upon the bones.
The lovers who loved someone else,
who aspected their zodiac,
who saved them from a living hell
and never stopped them looking back.