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Death of a Friend

His painting hung upon the wall,
his eyes looked out and searched the hall,
The memory he left behind,
will haunt my soul and haunt my mind,

I remember the day he died,
the day I wept, the day I cried,
For I had found him cold in his chair,
I stood beside hime, it felt so unfair,

I didn't see him proud and tall
...a rigid silhouette,
Instead he slumped with eerie calm
...a lifeless marionette,

I used to visit every day,
I'd go there after school,
My friends would taunt and tease me
about this man they called "the fool",

But I didn't care what anyone said,
I'd leave them all and see him instead,
I'd run to his house where he'd be in his chair,
I'd sit on the footstool, he'd watch and I'd stare,

This strange old man that I loved so dear,
he loved me back but he gave me fear,
His eyes were magic, they'd talk if they could,
he uttered no words but I understood,

He didn't speak, he never cried,
he never laughed, but I think he tried,
The only words I'd heard him say,
was for other people to "go away",

But there he was in front of me,
sleeping now for good,
I couldn't hold my tears for long,
I did the best I could,

I'll miss this man with all my heart,
for he was my best friend,
What a way to learn
that all good things will find an end,

I sat and thought before I left,
and then committed a forgivable theft,
I stole his portrait with tears in my eyes,
and headed for home after saying goodbye,

His painting was hung just outside my room,
His memory would flourish, his eyes would resume,
I sit for hours out in the hall,
It's like he'd never left at all.

 

~ DB Sullivan

 

copyright © 2008 David B Sullivan.  Please read my copyright notice.