(A Poem for Derek. R.I.P.)
Farewell old friend,
No more will French fields pass by
In the blur of the moment;
The ranks of sensuous sunflowers
Beckon like flirtatious village girls.
We conquered Europe, us Musketeers,
With our indomitable nature,
Freewheeling into uncertainty
With open arms and minds
And an inquiring spirit.
We embraced its green forests,
Struggled up its snow clad passes,
And finally stood atop its mountains
Like shining beacons for our generation:
Music filled our life
And the lust for life swelled our hearts:
But above all, ‘adventure lit our star.’
We gazed down on the colourful patchwork
Of earth below, and for a fleeting moment
Life seemed eternal, and we believed
The precious music would last forever,
A sustained note vibrating through the universe.
The festival of life we believed
Would go on forever, reeling and rocking
Like those hedonistic days in Montreux,
But cruelly the show does not go on forever,
The visions gradually become misty,
The colours begin to fade in the sunlight
And the music is swallowed
By the vastness of it all.
Yet deeds remain solid, locked in stone,
And visions once dreamt cannot be erased
Even by the passage of time.
So farewell old friend, until we all meet again,
Because for every dying star, a new star is born
And will shine so hard.
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