A New Friend Each Time
Now each time I see Bob, seems I make a new friend,
The externals are constant, internals though change
(And with scarcely a ripple)! Things 'now' feel so strange.
It's like watching a child grow, except the reverse,
Or a sun that's eclipsed by a moon. Seems perverse
That a source of such warmth is required to pay dues,
With no chance of appeal and no exit reviews.
I wish sick days not taken could future extend!
Life’s a business obtuse! Markets come, markets go!
(Oh, when one disappears, has it someplace to hide?
For the beach seems less cluttered! What left with the tide?)
Still, love's market is open, though softer in tone,
With a visible future, I feel more alone.
We sit more (there’s small talk), and at times watch TV.
Though his hand's warm, his dreams are less privy to me,
In his dusk, clouds of angels are hovering so!
Brian Johnston
13th of July 2018
Poet’s Notes:
This poem celebrates my opportunity to be present and participate
In the passing of a dear friend, Bob Lind, of Holdrege, Nebraska.
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