[ ... for Don Endean ]


Last December I enjoyed a visit

by Jason, my second son. Spending days

Here at my home, on Badgee Hill.

Almost three years since I last saw him:

- He lives half the world away.

And I miss him deeply, even if he’s almost forty.

One afternoon we came by to visit, and I was pleased,

that Betty and you could however briefly meet my son:

And I’m glad that Jason met with you.

You both found common ground with motor bikes and

Things mechanical, outside my realm of knowledge:

Though you and I shared interest in music, audio systems,

But soon you ranged beyond my knowledge

and interest in the topic - but we did agree

On one nostalgic thing:

That the old vinyl LP had warmth in its middle range

That’s not yet found in the clean but cold clarity of a CD.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Then only weeks later, I’d arranged to drop around:

I’d taken out a record - an old but cherished vinyl LP

that I wished you to hear - the Bach Toccata

- This version by Japanese instruments,

the shakuhachi flute,

and the plucked strings of a koto, a kind of flat-laid harp.

But on the day,

Betty asked me to defer, to postpone as at that time you felt weak;

So I put aside this LP, until the next time:

Then suddenly you were gone.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .



A kind of wake by family and friends made a fond Sunday

Parting with our various memories. We celebrated your time,

And your shared dry humour

With the same warmth you generated.

Now this vinyl LP waits in its packet, by my own record-player:

You didn’t get around to hearing it - things got worse - and now

I can only play it for your unhearing ears.

So now I’m caught by your memory, and each time

I play my Japanese Bach who can I think of but you ?

But I’m glad that Jason met with you.



Geoff D Bolton, 2008