Departure Poem by Martin Nash

This must be one of the quietest places on earth,
in between the occasional rotor - rumble of the enthusiastic helicopter pilot and
the biggles lookalike in his ancient bi-plane.

Ripples in the clearest of clear water made by swans,
is enough to interfere with this commendable tranquility.

This is where we walk,
where we put to right all daily woes and incessantly talk,
I will miss you, just as I would miss this,
my friend, when I need your ear, I will meet you here.