It’s time now to turn the calendar page
Time marches on into March, but has cost
Another poet friend, second major
Loss in less than a year; this one has lost
The battle against the bottle, this last
Christmas an ill-fated binge. Gary’s gone -
Hard to believe this friendly face has passed
And won’t greet us at meetings in Bolton
The end of an era. We must move on
And not only turn the calendar page
But turn the pages of the book that most
Dread: the Book of the Dead; the book that one
Day will contain all our names and engage
The reader with tales of this distant past
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