GOMAA

​You were the very best for this world to hold,

To me, you were the very best,
I sit in silence as the memories unfold.

First there were memories of Rowena and yourself in the pub,
Gomaa was the owner, the best place with the best grub.

The good-looking man with the black, curly, bushy hair,
Sitting with a newspaper and a cup of tea,
You would say, “Come and sit next to me on the chair.”

With a cigarette in your mouth, happily smiling away,
“How come, Alison, you are always late? I would like you to stay.”

“Please do not dash off, I would like to talk,”
But you had no time, off you would walk.

At the belly dancing night you told me to behave,
Manoud used to take me to the Luxor cemetery
To put flowers on your grave.

When we arrived in Luxor, the best place to go,
The King’s Head Pub, I rushed there with a glow.

You would stand there staring at me from the bar,
Often give me a lift home in your car.

It is very hard because your brother in the shop just looks like you too,
The wavy black, curly, bushy hair reminds me clearly of you.

Your brother is so hospitable, he gets me food from the pub,
He says, “Sit and eat.”

The memories keep coming back, I want to run and quickly retreat.

It is so hard to go in the pub without you being there,
I sit with my meal and look at your photos on the wall as I stare.

I remember the day when I walked down the pub’s high stairs,
The handrail broke and gave way,
Leaving great big bruises on my arms to display.

If you were not in the bar, I knew where to go,
You would be in the office, I miss you so.

There is plenty to say about my very best friend,
But for today, these words must come to an end