By Benjamin Mcnair
I see him, fifteen years after our last gig together.
His steady foot, the metronome, the spirit, the glue.
He kept the music together, had the diplomacy
to soothe egos.
He has a slight tremor,
laughs and says it is a gift from God, telling him to slow down.
He says his days behind the drum kit are over,
as is any chance of a career as a human statue.
Stillness will be a stranger to him
but he has no self pity.
He says things could be worse,
and the fleeting hint of sadness
in his voice and eyes,
means that we both know
that they will be.
Benjamin Macnair is an award-winning poet and playwright from Staffordshire in the United Kingdom.