I played a game when I was yet still quite tame,
With my best friend called Silva,
Of pirates and ships and our numerous trips,
To the places we would stop to pilfer.
With a yo oh ho, our faces would glow,
As the world came alive around us,
Pillows as Islands and tables as Highlands,
We fought with hawkers and hunters.
Now, Silva was older, and a great deal bolder,
Than I would ever aspire to be,
He’d get us in trouble, and then on the double,
We’d run off screaming with glee.
Then we would swear, upon a rugged teddy bear,
That forever we would be best of friends,
No mountains or dungeons, dragons or canyons,
Would dictate how it ends.
They say it was cancer, that provided the answer,
To the question that he called his life,
The rest is history, cancer is no mystery,
His death was slow and filled with strife.
On that last day, just before he passed away,
He gave me one of those sly smiles,
“X marks the spot where you shall find your gold pot,
Aargh tis a journey of a thousand miles”
Five years down the lane and when I feel the pain,
I go to our corner so private,
And remember back when, with a paper and a pen,
I could change into a pirate.