Yesterday, I visited the old Headmaster, I enjoy his company, and his attitude for life, a ninety year-old, still wise and witty. We chatted as old friends do.
Shyly I told him, “I write poetry”
“That’s Interesting, I didn’t know, Ivor”
“Would you like to read my poems John”
“Certainly Ivor, I’d be happy to” he quickly replied.
I felt a little surprised that this old gentleman might want to read my humble writings, and until recent times, I have basically kept them to myself.
“I’ll drop off a folder of my poems later this afternoon”
“I shall take pleasure in reading them Ivor” The Headmaster said sincerely.
And in the afternoon, I eagerly head off to John’s place, and I duly arrive back there, folder firmly in hand.
“Here you are John” as I pass to him my poems.
“I’ll probably read them tonight” cheekily winking at me.
“Oh John, there’s no great rush, take your time” I didn’t want to sound too pushy or over enthusiastic. He’s a man I hold in high regard, as he stands before me, tall and proud with that Headmaster’s aura of strength and nobility.
“Thank you Ivor for delivering your poems so soon”
“Goodbye for now John” And we exchange a friendly handshake, and we smile at each other in quiet acknowledgement.
Today, I received a phone call, I recognised the voice, my Headmaster friend, and before I could say, hello, how are you, he’s reciting one of my poems to me over the phone, in his majestic and eloquent voice. The poem he’s reciting is “Everlasting Smile” and I dare not interrupt, I listen to his every word of my melancholic poem. He finishes and quickly remarks to me.
“I had to phone you Ivor, I just wanted to do that for you”
“John that was beautiful” I’m very teary, I’ve never had anyone recite a poem to me on the phone before, let alone one of my own.
“I’ve read them all Ivor” he exclaims
“And this one is my favourite”
By this time, I’m so glad it’s a phone call, and he’s not here beside me. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, I’m overcome, and as I tend to be, I’m totally emotional.
“John I’m lost for words, Thank you” In my shaky state.
“My pleasure Ivor, you surprise me with your talent for words”
“And for an old plumber, they’re good” He’s sounding chirpy, and I’m smiling to myself.
“Thank you John” again I say, as no more uttering’s come forth.
“Goodbye Ivor, it’s time for my glass of red wine” he quips to me.
“Enjoy my Friend, and Thanks John” haha, another thankyou is all I can say, and I’m happy he’s ended the conversation, I’m so very choked up. Sitting here, there’s a euphoric silence. How do I ever explain to him, that he’s just given me a most precious gift, that I shall treasure within heart forever more.
My Poem Everlasting Smile. https://ivors20.wordpress.com/2017/07/27/everlasting-smile/