I have never had a poem written about me before. Really its about our mutual love of cricket, but I like to think there could be a metaphor in there, about my dogged twenty-five years. The test was against India at the Basin, where captain McCullum fought his way to 302, and won the series for New Zealand.
Cricket, with David
For David Colquhoun, on his retirement as
Curator, Manuscripts, Alexander Turnbull Library
Seeing David, you know
you have an instant friend.
In the lift at work, or on the street,
mention cricket to David
and the conversation flows,
whether it's the Firebirds' batting
or New Zealand's bowling
David'll have something to say,
always looking for his latest dose
of the 'beautiful game'.
At the Basin in February, we witnessed
record after record tumble,
David turned up in his summer hat,
sitting with me and Michael*, rising to applaud,
like a good nightwatchman or 12th man,
he was never sure there was enough runs yet
His eyes honed on the play. By the end
of the day, the match was safe,
glasses from members raised, and stumps
were called, David looking as pleased
as the batsmen, let go his defensive guard
and wandered into the eve.