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The Passing Man

The day will never be forgotten

In the hearts of those who loved him

It was a normal day

In the heart of the young man

Who was later to be guided by his own destiny

 

The light blue Vauxhaul stands unscathed

As the dismantled scooter lies in its grave

Its rider lies in lands unknown

His spirit lives on in the eyes

Of those who have known

 

The darkest day arrives

Look upon the shadowy mist of their eyes

His Mother, Father, Brothers & Sisters

Did not foresee or dare to believe

That one so young, could die so cruel

 

Out of life he wanted not much

Just the feeling of certainty, security and love

His girlfriend of so long

Once shared these hopes with him

But now she stands pondering oh distant memories

 

His younger brother tries so disparingly

To shake off his tears of sadness

But his fondness and memories of him,

Beat hard in his shock filled heart

He shares with those who new him best

The joys and sorrows of his past

 

Twenty years is not long enough for man

To fulfill his dreams

He has foreseen so indearly

Too cruel to take away such life, hope and heart

Look upon the shattered faces of those around

Brings sadness to the hearts

Of those who knew him not

 

To say that he will be forgotten is scorned upon

His life, spirit and soul

Is engraved in the hearts of those who knew him

Mark Frederick Hitchen now lies peacefully in his own tranquility of solitude

 

And as we always remember

To live in the hearts we leave behind

Is not to die

His spirit listens intently

 

To think that no-one will ever harm him again

But we love and miss him all the same

 

Rest In Peace

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Written by
joe-fogg
English
Published
Oct 18, 2011
Lines·Words
44·302
Notes

I received this from a girl, 26 years ago, following the passing of the passing man - Mark Hitchen, aged 20. Recently uncovered as I trawled through some old 'stuff'. Should the world do its magic and anyone know this girl who befriended Mark and comforted him through his torment at the injustice of unrequited love. She was tall and blonde and probably around 18 years of age. I think she may have lived in Liscard, Wallasey, Merseyside. Written unedited from the original raw outpouring, the need to externalise that which hurts inside. Thanks Hello Poetry for giving new generations the opportunity for their thoughts to be shared and not put in boxes, that gather dust in the dark recesses of our minds.

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