Not For Keith

In Germany, his days finally caught him;
I won’t insult his memory with long-distance grief
Tears and wakes weren’t his style:
Not him
Not for Keith
He’d have laughed in my face
If he saw it get mournful
He’d pull me up short and say «Life carries on»
In that gentle way of being cruelly scornful…
Now he’s gone
«I want to see it all, and eat it»
Was as close to ethos as he came;
Though he knew he couldn’t beat it
He never gave of himself
Anything less than best in the game
Oh, one for the game…
I never did say, I never quite found time —
He taught me a lot, and I carry it still
I never thanked him at all for his friendship
And now I never will
The diaries we write are those that we crave for
We never put the P. S. at the foot of the final page
He deserved more time
But he never was made for middle age
Not for middle age
Not for Keith