Eric,the gardener.

For us, Eric was just a whisper

In the loud voice of time.

Like a leaf cut down before the autumn,

Still full of life,still in his prime.


His smile shone like the berries,

His joyous laugh was crackled,

He brought with him a friendship,

And a different way of life.


But then,as a gust of wind

Blows the leaf away,

We lost him from our lives,

On a bright summers day.


And Eric,what you were,

You can be no more.

And the flames of our lives burn lower,

With the closing of your door.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Eric was the gardener at a nursing home where I worked, he was a Yorkshireman, and had fought a drink problem for years.he was a good friend to everyone. I wrote the poem as a tribute to him.

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