Charles Murray Poem by PAUL COLVIN

In Reelick Quad when I was young, all sorts of games we’d play
But one of us was very ill, his name was Charles Murray.
Charles never would complain, to us or to his brothers,
He’d try to be in every game then want to play another.

We were young, as young as eight not realising his pain,
The doctors said they’d operate and make him well again.
His purple face, his lack of pace, it didn’t seem to reason.
We didn’t care for we were pals, together every season.

The operation failed our pal, Charles sadly passed away.
Our wee pal no longer would, be with us in our play
We knew he went to heaven, God always took in kids
But in our thoughts he must be still for I am writing this.

I’m glad we never understood the suffering and strife
For if we knew, we wouldn’t have had the pleasure of his life.
Instead we’d have protected him and denied him so much fun
But we did not, we didn’t know, ‘cause we were very young.

I do not often think of him but our short friendship was real,
I’m older now and understand that time can sometimes heal.
It has ‘til now and maybe age delves deep into the mind
Whilst conjuring up a distant past I thought I’d left behind.

This poem reflects a younger me and Charles he was there.
The joy, the fun, the sadness too, I’m glad it all was shared.
For in this life we all lose those, who made us, being friends
So Charles now, I say farewell and thank you to the end.