when old friends awake

When old friends awake

I have lost my voice totally, not even a whisper
I pretend to stay on stage lift my left arm pretend there is a skull in my palm
“Is this you Yorick? It's difficult to tell in this night
so dark” Yorick, comes out OK, but the line disappears. Behind me, a theatrical murmur: “ I knew him well.” Turning around, and there, disappearing in the glare of the glorious sunlight flooding the flat
I sensed my old friend Tom.
His literary hero was Shakespeare and recited him
whenever we had drinks on the table.
I met him in Algarve, he was a semi-retired actor but sometimes had a job in clubs as an entertainer.
He had tried in vain for me to act in his revue, in a comedy role.
Well, if he saw me now he would have laughed.