Trumpet Voluntary

for Greg


This is the only place for us —

The cliff that slips down to the sea,

The house, our Castle Perilous

Linked to embattled Kapiti.


We saw the New Year in at Jo’s:

Mary, Aurelian, Greg were there.

The world is in a mess, God knows.

We toasted it with wine and beer.


We sat around in stocking-feet,

Exchanging thoughts about the past,

When Greg, to make its end complete,

Blew it away with The Last Post.


Rockets whistled about the sky

And fell in multi-coloured showers;

And when we kissed and said goodbye

We knew the future wasn’t ours.


Soon afterwards we left Jo’s door

Amid good wishes, and went home.

The sea was quiet on the shore,

But further out were wreaths of foam.


Here is a sentence to debate —

How true it is when mixed with wine!

He has an argument with Fate,

Whose future lies with Auld Lang Syne.


By Alistair Te Ariki Campbell