My apologies to newer members who may not understand some of the references mentioned here but there is a rich history among many of the older members here and this poem represents one of those times. As the site moves along, friendships are formed and memories are made and everyone has the opportunity to create and share these friendships and experiences, which is, by far, the greatest asset of this wonderful place.
.


It was just a little restaurant, like many I have seen
And eaten at so many times before,
A friendly little place to bite the biscuit, sip the bean
While listening to the waves fall on the shore.

This gathering was different, though, than others I had known.
It was the first for all those there, you see
The first time that we met (without computer or a phone)
Those we had come to know at P.I.P.

The meter queen, Liz Santos, sat beside me on that day,
Whose verse had held me spellbound on the site
And there she was! I must confess I knew not what to say
To let her know her words held such delight.

Next to her sat Ms. Hoot Owl. Do you want to speak of class?
You'll never find another girl with more
And I found out much later she can really move quite fast!
To this day I have muscles that are sore.

Across from me was Kit McCallum, my poetic twin
Collaborator of the first degree.
She never knew the strong emotions that I felt within
To see here sitting there across from me.

Isabel was at her right, Sy's wife of many years
I always did my best to give her hell.
The truth is, through the insults and the wisecracks and the jeers
I loved the gal - (but don't tell Isabel!)

Then next to her, the leader of this motley group, dean Nan
She organized this gathering that day.
For one whole week, we had a blast which she had neatly planned
And did it in a very Falmouth way!

There. at the table's head, sat Sy, the patriarch of all,
King Seymour with his air of gallantry,
A small man who could make you swear that he was ten feet tall
Bypresence he projected naturally.

The years have passed, time moves along, we go our separate ways
Such is the way of life here on this earth
But memories of special times will never fade but stays
And loses no iota of it's worth.

On Sunday we will bury Sy. His time on Earth is through.
I'll never hear his laugh again - yet, still...
He sat there at the table head like only Sy could do
And, in my heart, my good friend always will.