“Dead Friends”

 

c. 2025 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(11-25)

 

Dead friends cannot make amends

It is a feat, impossible

So, when they come a-calling

It is better to greet the eventual

I know a lot about this chase

Far better than the catch

But when the clutter of life abounds

I want to strike a match

 

Dead friends carry no hope of change

Personalities set in stone

Now that they have gone away

I sit here, lost and alone

If I would ruminate about

The adventures that we knew

That energy will peter out

Like a pair of leather shoes

 

Dead friends live in a world of wonder

A place both dark and cold

Separate from the sunlight

With a stink of must and mold

But now and then their names are called

And the sound is sweet to hear

That is when I see again

These souls that disappeared

 

Dead friends make me tremble

As I recall their worth

I celebrate them annually

Upon their day of birth

Yet even that remembering

Falls too short of the mark

I yearn to touch and hear again

To tease fate for a lark

 

Dead friends cause a shake of the head

When considering their absence

The void they leave behind

Upsets my inner balance

Off kilter, I will stumble

And stammer out a curse

My muse has no gifts to bring

Except an empty purse

 

Dead friends may remain intact

Long after they have gone

In photographs and painted portraits

In glimpses of the dawn

But still, I want to choose another

A different path to tread

A stronger dose in retrospect

Of what lingers in my head

 

Dead friends do not call to chat

Though I might imagine a ring

I sit still by the telephone

And yearn for what time will bring

From the far side of a mortal veil

They cannot leap the divide

Though I hear their whispers

Before the receding tide

 

Dead friends keep their value

Despite the closing of a grave

In defiance of their passing

A spark of self is saved

What they have contributed

Is returned, a hundred-fold

And I’ll carry that inheritance

To the point of growing old