Stan could cut you

he was blunt, he was sharp

wasn't blind

he was strong, things were clear

in his mind,

his mouth-line grim

once,

as they say,

upon a time.

 

And once upon a time

an artery burst

and Stan was weak, and things grew dim

in his mind

almost blind

no longer blunt, no longer sharp

Brought down low

That's how it goes

 

But oh his wonderful smile, beaming

gentle warmth, our lives lightened

his patient good humour, glowing

at the children he once frightened

 

This beach glass could once cut you

it was edged, it was sharp

it was strong, it was clear

if you didn't mind

you would find

yourself with a blood-filled line

 

Not now.

 

Now it is worn, rounded, pitted,

scraped by a million grains of sand

battered by ten thousand waves

no threat to anyone

a thing to pick off the beach and smile

almost a stone

something warm to hold

and wonder at its story

 

Like Stan

cloudy now,

but with no edges