Voltaire and a bottle of wine,
Candle on and electricity out,
A time for thought…
“Go cultivate your own fucking garden!”
The book pages flutter
The cover lies discarded as the room echoes
Laughter bouncing
Tired eyes gleaming,
Friends.
I thought I saw you.
Walking on the other side of the road,
Long tarmac pavement
Absorbing those strides
And I tripped –
Flat on my face in the pond,
Textbook soaked and cloak tangled,
You help me up…
“You looked like a gigantic frog.”
Tender words are lost
on you. My strange but ever-loyal friend,
I cry through laughter,
Grazes stinging,
Smiles.
I think I see you.
Standing on the other side of the room,
Smiling me memories
Showing everything but that
Fateful day.
But you are not there
Because you are dead.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Oh I particularly like the way you used the lists of ajectives in a collection of pictures, and then summed it up with a simple word like 'friends'; I thought the introduction in the unconscious blur of what friendship is, s something you captured very well.
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Beautiful
I'm actually feeling rather weepy.
What beautiful writing, your word compositions never fail to astound me.
He was blessed to have a friend in you.
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