Ian Beckett (love and life and death and sorrow poems) (8 June 1956 / Dublin)

Be-tubed in my silver coffin for take-off,
Bemused by passenger coping strategy,
Beloved by adjacent nervous new-friend,
Being away from you is harder every time.

Bewildered by the preying nervousness,
Be-crossed by maddening screaming kids,
Bespectacled study of the unending 1Q84,
Being away from you is harder every time.

Be-thinking of what you are doing as I soar,
Because appoggiatura in 'Someone Like You',
Begets a 'Missing You' sadness deep inside,
Being away from you is harder every time.