A Brief Walk
(i.m. Martin Howe, B.A., A.M.A, 1950-1994, Curator of Peterborough Museum)
He was buried on a bright October day,
The leaves put on their yellow shrouds.
His car wept early mist waiting
For his key. His five-year wife
Still clung to the fresh sound of his voice,
The electric tread of his feet.
The world knew him as a miner fetching
Nuggets of gold from quotidian earth,
As explorer of many horizons
Below and beyond the sun,
Catching and refracting light
For all to warm and colour their days.
His joy never stilled at the newness of words,
In the quick laughter he shared out.
His name will live in each life he touched,
In rooms that exhale his breath,
In stones that remember his language,
On the brief walk he could take among us.
Page(s) 24
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