Thirty years without you,
It has gone in a blink of an eye,
yet still, you remain, in my thoughts,
larger than life, the story man,
Adanac and the green painted door,
The Story Man, a ready tale
of heroism that I have tried,
and failed,
to live up to.
March 1st 1988, ironic to die
on a patron saint’s day, we all do
though I guess, have to pass
through the gossamer thin web and veil
eventually, it is though whether we
whisper goodbye, drama and cascading tears
of regret and the softness of a young woman’s
hand at our cheek
wiping away a tear and giving us
one last reason to smile
as her face becomes the last beautiful
thing we witness; or
do we go out silently, fade in silence
in a chair at night, no one paying heed,
yet leaving the roar and mighty wind
of change to come…thirty years,
you left in that roar of silence,
that roar still deafens me now.
For Eric Stanley Hall 1922-1988
Ian D. Hall