A year

Three hundred and sixty five long days,
One year to this very day,
Since we said our last fond farewell,
And as I sit and reflect,
This warming tonic at my side,
I miss the man,
The mirth,
The eccentricities,
I miss speaking to you at will,
My introduction to Penderyn,
My partner in crime,
My friend,
I still feel the warmth of your smile on Decembers breath, I still carry you with me,
So just for you John,
I raise this glass of single malt,
To Mr John Pitt,
Gone, But never forgotten.

Holy Land Olive wood and chrome click pen. More at Bespoke Woods Facebook page

2 thoughts on “A year

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