Friday, November 11, 2011

Dear Friend

Dear friend,
It seems like so long ago that I was counting the foot steps you took
To mimic them with my worn away, ripped-laced shoes. 
I will miss the days we spent in rooms, encased in white walls painted with music
Where it was not entertainment but a wondrous revelry 
To watch the notes and sentence lines like smiles float off pages, while you played 
in perfect time, melodies beyond my reasoning.
I will miss your eyes, bright green like grass that made me think of 
Old days in Switzerland and rolling hills in country sides at sunset.
Never forgetting the ways we laughed at coins stuck to walls
Or pictures in our heads. 
You would play Impromptu in C Major, and C would stand for things like
Courage, comfortable and care. Costly or contempt never came up.
Yet it seems that circumstances fade like hills and memories are washed away
as surely as they roll into the distance.   
And I can’t seem to hold onto them before they are washed into the horizon. 
What will happen to our days further down the shore
Is a mystery to me.
Time is like a supposedly-circular flower, moving and turning toward 
the sun but, every now and then, time’s edges seem rougher
Or more jagged than they seemed before.
But I won’t forget you, dear friend.
And I hope you won’t forget me, for I hold you deeper still than most in my heart
And wish you the best in the land of rolling green hills. 

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