Early Works - In Friendship

To Maurice Callard The days were marked with frustration each getting more than the last. A friend with a proposition an opportunity that might last. Along dark corridors to an almost empty room a light for ambition awaiting there, a mere mortal with friendly words. The days seem shorter than before the frustration begins to decline. A thought rears from the subconscious is spurred on to a climax. A year of tension and seemingly impossible task, but its ending is enjoyment. Years pass almost unnoticed the light is now a friend someone whom I think highly who’s prompting never ends. Someone to identify with whom my reward is regarded as friendship. I ask no higher accolade from him or any other. For friendship is a bond for which my life has purpose. 28 February 1980