The postman had been and gone this morning, so I assumed that the loud clatter raised by the lid of my letterbox closing, was yet just another piece of classified daily advertising material. The communication turned out to be in fact no piece of unwelcome junk mail, rather an anonymous hurried note, stating that an enclosed poem was a dedication to the late lamented passing of Mr Phil Cooney, and asking if we might like to publish same.
Due to my slowness in reacting to the noise posed by my letterbox lid, I am now unaware of the person who delivered this communication or indeed the author of this thoughtful and most solicitous elegy.
Phil Cooney (R.I.P.)
The Piper.
The days and nights
Blur into one.
The heart and soul
Are brought to ruin.
A part of us forever changed.
The Piper plays no tune.The sombre feet
Don’t beat in time.
The hands don’t clap,
But clasp in prayer.
Nothing fills the sudden space.
No Piper music stirs the air.Gone the Piper.
Gone to rest
All is changed
From that before,
And yet I hear his music still,
Though his music plays no more.
To those involved in communicating this poem to us; should he/she (the author), update us as to their identity, we remain happy to update our social media accordingly.
Our sincere thanks.
It’s a wonderful tribute to our father whom we loved deeply. I would like to acknowledge the beautiful words that were composed by the author, with a fitting name “The Piper“. Thanks again to the author for his lament; it gives us great pride at this difficult time. God Bless.
HE WAS A VERY NICE MAN.
I had the pleasure of meeting him a few years ago on the street. I told him my mother was Pollard. What a welcome he gave me. A gent in my book, so rest well. I am quite sure my late mum and himself are playing catch up in Heaven.
That was a beautiful lament, as I knew Phil very well. With my father Michael Treacy, they played the pipes together, like 2 peas in a pod, always planning the next adventure. May they rest in peace xx