Give Over.... (For My Friend, Dave Hardy) Poem by Sylvi Sylva

If you ever see Dave, he's the one carrying a smile
A glitter in both eyes, he's that lad from the noorth
Aye, convivial arms genially manoeuvring forth
A friend even when you don’t need him, he’ll still joke
“Give over”, and your heart packs it in

If you ever hear a husky laughter, louder than the rest
A chuckle that ends with a raspy but comfy sigh
Aye, the chappie from the noorth, he’s the one to paint the sky
A grinning child on a branch high up, upside down clutching a pear
“Give over”, and your heart packs it in

If you ever observed a family, the one that’s knitted close
A tenderness that surrounds a home, totally transcending
Aye, it's that lad from the noorth, greater still Yve
A noble lass, who glints our Dave when he says
“Give over”, and his eyes don’t shout or sparkle

If you ever heard a roar, thunderous in its wake
A robust figure at the bike's helm, that’s Dave from the noorth
Aye, he will fill your day with endless banter and wondrous myth
A solid shoulder on an arduous day, as he chuckles forth
“Give over”, and your heart packs it in

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