That first day, I mean the very first proper day

when we had our first group session together

and you sat at the back of the room with what I

would have called the cool kids thirty years before,

leaving, stranding me beside the battered front desk

of a tutor who spoke too fast and in a language

that well as might have been based in Maths, Fortran or

Gobbledegook,

your blonde hair shone and shimmered as much as it did

for the following three years in which it was my honour

to be your friend; you smiled at me and it was a love,

friendship love, at first sight.

 

Nobody could ever pronounce your name

and I being so much older, felt the embarrassment keenly

as you kindly corrected the foolish arse with tenderness,

and wallowed in happy glee as you laughed at the jokes

that came your way as you joined the Animal Farm

and become much loved by all, you were after all.

the woman we looked up to and I was desperate for you

to stay and not be taken in by the glamour of Durham,

the beauty of being outside of the Farm.

 

I cheered loudly and with pride as you collected

your degree, I howled so very loud the night

I wandered outside of the Farm’s boundary

and found you in pain, pain I could not stand to see you in

I laughed all night with you as we played Monopoly

and the sound never stopped.

 

Thank you for that first ever smile, my second one

inside the busted hallway, the first of many from you.

Thank you and where ever you are, there is another person like me

thanking you as much as I am now.

 

Dedicated to Clare Dyckhoff

Ian D. Hall 2015