Eddie

 Eddie's mother was a prostitute,
thought somewhere in Paddington,
his father pimped in Manchester;
Eddie rebelled in special schools,
pleasant lad of seventeen
not a lot to say, condensed in
lucid moments if only people
listen to his quiet voice.
Came to us as last resort,
Made few complaints,
a man of action,
he simply ran away.
A wild horse unsaddled ,a
challenge, worth the bruises;
one eye had a cast but
if he smiled (and why should he? )
held your gaze, for one brief
time that was reward enough.
Eighteen months I taught him,
found he could be trusted
but more, he trusted me.
One day he spoke about his Dad
but never of his mother.
Eddie had a watch ,broken
by his Dad
who refused a repair.
(Eddie said to me one day,
"the only thing my father
did for me was break my watch
and refused to have it repaired")
gobble-de -gook ? Clear as crystal.
He left and got a job,
hotel in Park Lane
came back once, just once
didn't like the work
"Looking for something else"
that's all he said
pleasant man of twenty one
still a man of action,
Committed suicide I hear.