Piano – By June, created while looking at paintings of WWII coastal bombing.
He always had pints of beer lined up
As he played the piano in the pub.
He was always there, the handsome young man.
“Come on, play,” they’d shout
Through the hovering line of cigarette smoke.
We were good friends but he’d sit down and play
And I’d lose my friend for the evening
As he entertained them,
Laughter during the wartime agonies.
Then, one day, he wasn’t there and the piano was silent.