A tribute to Seamus Heaney.
Through the red bricked arches of history we both stalked these corridors of knowledge
Wordsmith, literary farmer you culled the errant words guided your flock into a semblance of order.
As you dug into the classics with pen in hand my father guided me to your words;
‘O’ levels haunted my night digging for meaning in a salute to the past.
Your presence brought silence to hallowed halls even mice waited with baited breath for you to speak,
Pearls of wisdom each one I clung to them a precious gift.
Silence my tongue cleft to my mouth the words dried, died as I shook your hand in abject awe
I grinned like a maniac my copy of Beowulf clasped to my chest.
All I ever wanted to say was thank you for the spark which drove my fascination with the past
Gone now! Shed this physicality you have become something more a legend for the new age.