Still standing,Feels like a cliff top, like the one where the saucers flew from out of the sunset,Strange to find that i can no longer see you, watching the evening flight returning home...I know you are there, the joyful child leaping across the feild towards me...The smiling man walking , looselimbed, down Glastonbury High Street...The artist, wanting so much to show me your new work...All of these are in my memories, and more...The time you had mumps, and the doctor thought it was a virus...The times you missed your cue with tibet...Seeing you appear, wet and cold, from out of the mist in the bog in the sky...The joy that you had for the new washing machine the last time i saw you, as Postman Steve and you plumbed it in, you reminded me of the mad baron fixing his pushbike...Matt, Mate, I'll miss you so much, but i have so many memories to keep me warm in the cold times ahead... Thank you....