I met him when we moved here
my precious neighbour Fons
he used to be a farmer
who loved nature and his beer
You had to listen very good
as he did speek to you
he spoke in dialect and fast
when he was in the mood
I loved to go to visit there
just listen to his stories
about the horses on his farm
his job was to take care
It was a beautiful time he said
but didn't want to go back
with all the comfort nowadays
he sure wasn't that mad
He often called me in to see
his blooming cactus plants
and as I loved them even so
the pleasure was on me
He was alone his wife had died
but he was not the mourning type
he made you laugh I don't know
if he felt sorrow he just might
He fell in love again he did
and his girlfriend came along
once in a while by car she drove
by hand he took her in to sit
It was so lovely for us to see
him waiting in his kitchenwindow
waving a hanky for her welcome
he was as happy as he could be
And then one day he got unwell
cancer and there was no cure
in his eighties and so in love
it was sad to watch I can tell
Then he died at eighty five
we said goodbye a moment sad
but his sons they won't allow her
they didn't see her as his wife
All he cared for was thrown away
even all those cactus plants
so I took them in my house
have them to this very day
And every year of him I think
my dear old neighbour Fons
as cactus flowers light my day
it's allmost I see him wink
He was old but yet my friend
and I cared for him so much
so I respect him with this poem
hope he's happy in the place he went
Worldwide © 2001 by Titia Geertman
