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Poetry Pleases: A Chief Inspector

Renee Lowe’s poem is drawn from the depths of the well of sadness.

A man's man - down to earth. Streetwise. Called a spade a spade.
Enjoyed a pint with the locals.
Drank whisky with his pals and champagne with the elite.
Fair play was his motto. A real judge of men.
He was big! Bold! And handsome.
To a woman he could be tender and gentle
Could make her toes curl in a mad, passionate moment.
Many a tale he could tell of life in the Force.
I'll tell you some day.
But for now I’ll leave you with the fear he had about fire.
He always had to know where the fire alarm was.
And his favourite charity was the Lifeboat men.
Something he said he could never be.
So you see this man had his failings,
No different from you or me.
Years went by and he made many plans,
Of early retirement and visits to foreign lands.
Not to be, because fate took a hand.
And one dark and dreary night
Villains set upon him and beat him to a pulp.
He remembers nothing. His mind a complete blank.
He sits in the garden now, his dog close by.
A shadow of a man, holding his white stick.
He doesn’t talk very much and doesn’t like people any more.
How terrible to come to this,
From being a big, bold and handsome man.


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