‘Ey You

I still miss his greeting,

“Ey you, yer Commie bastard,”

shouted loudly in the Manchester accent

he never lost,

and I smile.

There’s a plaque to him in the Square,

in recognition of the work he did

for this small town.

I look at it sometimes and feel sad.

And then I think 

of all the wonderful people

we both knew

in many places,

and I smile.

And then I think 

of the crazy unintended outcomes

of some planned events

and I laugh.

And the sadness is overwhelmed and leaves

defeated.

https://dsmag.in/2026/09/27/lynn-whites-two-more-poems-4/