The End of the Fifties again
Another birthday present which helped to make Roger’s birthday very special (see previous post) was this poem:
For Roger, ending his fifties.
A Durham Rambler sweet as any rose,
He clothes in protecting arms the city’s stones,
Shielding the ancient walls, but turning to those
Who’d bring them down, his fiercest ranks of thorns.
True to his name, despite his love of home,
This hardy plant will wander far and wide,
His roots are deep, but still he loves to roam
Thriving in streets or leafy countryside.Yet in another world he flourishes,
The virtual paths of web and internet.
He keeps their rights of way, and nourishes
Their frail connections like a cherished pet.
To writers, artists, business folk alike,
He gives a home, a carrying voice, a face
Which invites a hit, but never goes on strike;
An aery castle, with a sense of place.His busy brain with elegant equations,
His days with work and walking fully crammed,
He still makes a fine show at celebrations,
A glass of red wine blooming in his hand.
So now he’s grown to reach his sixth decade,
Let’s hope this is one rose that will not fade;
A hard drive never needing a defrag,
A ‘jolly Roger’ who will never flag.