Gaz Poem by Marie Bliss

My friend Gaz is a barman
of the old time.
Spreading joy to the multitudes,
the generations go past,
he hears it all,
has the weariness and wisdom of a saint,
his mission
evident in the photos which line
his loungeroom wall.
His life's about the blessings
to and from,
they come and go like flies,
seeking his heart,
something pure in the lust cavern
of lonely hearts.
He picks out the gold
from the grains of sand
and reminds himself and others
of their precious value,
and this he hangs onto
peppering his nights and days
with the sound reason of it,
keeping to himself the weight of it all.