Sean

(North Earl Street Series). 

You used to toss me a two-euro coin,
but I had to catch it.

You walked unsteadily
and told me people thought you were drunk,
though it was your balance,
not the drink,
that made you sway.

Your smile,
your greeting from across the street,
could brighten a difficult day.

I remember you taking me to the casino
for warm scones and jam,
yet worrying I might start gambling
as you had.

I never did.

You were a warm part of my life,
one of us,
part of the North Earl Street gang.

The years passed.
I left Dublin,
but there you still were,
talking to strangers on O'Connell Street,
greeting me with surprise,
as though no time had passed at all.

More frail now,
leaning against a wall
to keep yourself upright.

You told me how easily
it could have been you
in that terrible accident.

I had feared it was.

He was your age,
one of the gang too.

Sean,
some people leave their mark
with grand achievements.

Others do it with a smile,
a greeting,
a remembered kindness.

You were one of those.

And whenever I think of Dublin,,
there you are still:
standing on O'Connell Street,
talking to whoever will listen,
holding your place in the world.