To a not forgotten friend:
I'm writing this poem
An unetched epitaph
To place beside your tombstone

I wrote it on the day you fell
Adding rhythm to the way I knelt
Beneath those eye drowning, April grey skies

I composed this simple poetry
To help understand this tragedy

As adult as we could
We stood standing on fresh broken ground
Eyeing white clouds, staring down green
And in between was granite grey

Dressed in mourning, feeling cold black
Hanging from our neck ties
Shading eyes with reflective but transparent sorrow

But now we must throw down our bluesky glasses
And begin to understand and undertake
The first loss of a dozen innocent faces

It was warm tonite
And we should move on into spring
But never forget the winter when boys became men