For Ed . . .
In Memory Of
I promised this to myself,
on the day of every year,
have I forgotten yet,
could I,
'holics never forget how.
He bought his passport early,
stood at the edge,
and pulled the trigger;
he was a friend,
and I loved him.
Come back my friend,
back to this plane,
gather together your ashes,
step out of the darkness,
let me see you again.
Yes, my friend,
you are hard to forget,
your eccentricities befuddle,
my practicle nature;
I want to remember.
That was you,
holding those christmas lights,
in front of your schoolbus home,
sharing our table on thankfulness day,
hiding the madness torturing your life.
My, how long has it been,
july of ninety-five I guess,
I saw you that day
while you filled your jugs,
didn't you know . . talkers don't jump.
Here, sit a spell,
I've rolled up some medicine,
light it, lets turn on,
never did it last so long;
what are pipe dreams.
No, I've not much to tell,
Jon married in texas,
Jim took his money and left,
she and I don't fight as much,
Beary is getting older.
So, how about a game,
scrabble is no fun,
when played only by one,
"hell" is three sevens,
on a triple word score.
Or maybe the game of kings,
you take white,
I'll take black,
maybe for a moment,
you'll come back.
NO! no wait,
you can't leave yet,
you didn't say goodbye,
so that is how its going to be;
until the memory dies.
Nakia (7/97) |
