Sitting in the cafe
You'd never guess,
While he goes on about
The kids and caravans,
But also knows,
Not counting the days exactly
But a short-list of must-do's
And people to see.
Out of the blue I think,
The cancer,
Here, then there,
Then everywhere.
Greedy for life
Quite rightly,
The family,
And things to do
He's never got round to,
Like a motorbike,
And Scotland to see.
And when he goes
He knows we'll be there,
Laughing and crying,
A beer,
A boat,
And a song.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem