Young Tom Poem by Gerard Horgan

I saw an old schoolmate today
Death had him in his grip.
Sitting outside the Mardyke
Spilling over a chair
Pale and ashen
Belly protruding from a stained grey shirt
A look of mild panic
And disbelief
Kept at bay by the pills
And the good intentions of the
Medical team.
Childlike helplessness at 35
Confused by his
Predicament
And torment.
Searching for a reference point.
I marched past
On my way to work you see.
Nothing
Could be said
Nothing
Could be done
Like Peter in the square
I will be there
When the time comes
To say goodbye to
Young Tom.