you mislay a friend
for a time, or forever,
but the memories stay.
Those were the days of possibility.
Youthful opportunity whispered it’s promise,
while I whirled by, blinded, unlistening
with weak pretence at innocence.
I couldn’t feel the deepest cuts,
the days before the dye was cast.
Recent wounds suppurated prettily,
giving me a flavour of mystery and depth.
revealing pink disease —
pathetically thinking I had nothing
more interesting to offer sweet humanity,
and you treated me as if I was real,
never questioning whether I
had earned your respect.
I have always regretted
being such a careless friend —
sweeping away your feelings
as if they were unseen.
You never complained
or called me names —
you found me.
I smiled at the surprise —
your kind face a little aged
but otherwise the same.
No longer half a lifetime away,
so, connected by a facebook page
we will re-aquaint across the ether,
and maybe we will meet again,
and I will be your friend.
Dedicated to my dear friend ,
©Jane Paterson Basil