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10 years ago, my friends and I had an experience.
A kind of Stand by Me thing.

The four of us went, down the same track,
we’d gone so many years.

It was just me and Jonesy,
and Ricky and Chris.
Just the four of us.

I asked Jonesy that night,
what was it like,
to know you’re dying.

Melanoma, the doctor said.
I wouldn’t want to be the man
who has to tell a thirteen year old
he’s going to die.

Jonesy told me something
that will stay with me forever.
And not the birth of my son,
or my confession of love,
could stand up to it.

“It’s great,” he told me.

Because every moment, from now on, will be cherished.
Every laugh will be beautiful.
Every kiss will be the sweetest.
Every tear will be the hardest.

“That’s why."

We sat by the fire,
laughing and talking,
just the four of us.

When we got back we had explaining to do.
Three days gone, missing, alone.
Just the four of us.
But it was the greatest.

Six months later we had Jonesy’s funeral.
And every tear was the hardest.

Today we all got together, minus one,
ten years later, and talked about life.
A kind of Breakfast Club thing.