You came from another place to live here.  Why?

Is there a better place beneath the sky?

Did you live longer here than there?

I neither know nor care.

You’re dead now, we exchanged a word or two.

I remember you.

You’re life is drawing to a close, I said.

You said that’s good, and now you’re dead.

Your work lives on, your Sistine Chapel is a pub.

Where I drank and ate grub.

You were a self supporting artist, the kind I like best.

I draw to a conclusion, enjoy your rest.

Tich Ennis

20th May, 2016