On the death of Spider

There’s people you see sometimes, that you know,
The ones you just bump into in the street,
Have drinks with in the pub, don’t plan to meet,
But happy to have join you when they show.

He always went by Spider. He was great;
He taught my son high fives; he had a scarf
Like Doctor Who; he always made me laugh.
Friend is too strong a word, he was a mate.

How little, and how much, what’s to be said?
He joked, and shared his warmth, earth-salt, true gold,
Until leukemia made his blood run cold,
For years I knew him slightly. Now he’s dead.

He never shook the skies or took up space
But made the world a gently better place.

December 8th 2013