In the warm spring sunshine looking out
over the beauty that is the Mediterranean
and with a perfect view to the Balcon
through freshly trimmed and vibrant palms
we were talking my friend and I
about the use of words and of the use of rhyme.
I could see as he spoke the signs of their pain
and the enormity of their loss, a loss that I
thankfully can not comprehend.
Within those six verses of rhyme
there is no respite, only the marking of time
and their memories of Mel, in the warm spring sunshine.