Snorkers chomping; tennis balls popping; cones stopping; poisoned dwarf on windswept patio; Abba’s arrival, nurtured my thriving.
A chemist in Great Portland Street, a ‘Hello Terry’ from me,
a glance upwards from where you sought something on a shelf below,
‘Hello’ back with a warm smile.
Pips on time.
Missing is your grace, and a wit that celebrated our foibles in so many elegant and kindly ways.