Chris

I make his dawn wake-up call, regular as an alarm clock;
He observes, “they said I was amusing, not a muse.”
whilst I ponder the miracle of 300 miles of signal,
of phones connecting friends; of us, connecting.

He is the comedian of any rough shod stage. His cherub face greyed by a life on the road,

a Traveller and a Trickster �"

 “What do midgets and dwarves have in common - very little.”

 

Which might be a metaphor

For the way I always seem to shrink in crowds.

My best friend he is an anchor
in the non-anchorite,
where sun
refracts off
scarce and isolated mudflats.

“Friends are like keys, and what do you when you lose your key, stop looking, then they’ll turn up.”
I glance to hedges fluent
as his humour,
 fields that fudge
Into one single landscape,
like our friendship.

Reviews

[Arabdha]

a wonderful tribute to friends and friendship :)

[Chris Smith Welshpoetcs]

A good poem of friendship.

[Steve]

I can relate to this one. My best friend was also names Chris. He used to protect me at times and give good advice. He was also my brother who died in 2005. I wrote about him too. lol