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Cold Cemetery of Friendship

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Below is the poem entitled Cold Cemetery of Friendship which was written by poet Colin Amato. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Cold Cemetery of Friendship

Trees swaying in the cold 
November breeze, as I
ascended up the hill 
a brown path, a dull 
line drawn across the 
two sides of grassy green 
Moses parting the sea 
I walking, splitting the 
cool air, the grass, the 
atoms and particles 
dancing around my head 
passing the silent guardians 
eyeing me with hungry, unforgiving 
eyes. passing the Trio unsure 
of their intent, perhaps 
they are here for the 
same reason as I, hard 
to tell. Passing by the old 
rock-hewn tombstone, bare,
worn and stale against 
the dying sunset. The 
Pink cotton-candy sky 
is slowly appearing in the 
cold horizon. Scanning to 
my right, the fresh graves,
my reason for being there.
I see before me the flag,
sports teams, a conch-
shell, Wizard figurine, all 
keep company to the lone 
marker, the signal to 
the grave, the plot, the 
final resting place of 
him. I begin to realize 
how much my loneliness 
is irrelevant in comparison 
to his. His only company 
are the two plots 
beside his own. The hill 
top overlooks the dead 
village below, the bay-
bridge across the housing 
of the living, bringing 
the soulful from one
place to another. Through 
the silence, only my voice 
rises above this company 
I begin talking, asking 
him to forgive me for not
being there for him and 
hoping he is in a 
better place. My tears 
being forming, my voice 
cracks, as cracked as 
that dusty, corroding 
stone nearby. I say my 
piece, then carry myself 
down the hill, pass 
the Trio, pass the silent 
guardians, down the hill, passing 
the signs, pass the living.

We grew up together 
amongst adolescence, chaos 
and changes. The tidal-wave 
of emotions, we the small 
tugboat in the center 
late night wrestling 
pay-per-view adventures 
we cheered on the greats 
along with the televised fans 
we imagined a world beyond 
our own, a land of fantasy 
and wonder. But now my 
dear friend, you are onto 
the next adventure, the real 
undiscovered country. You will 
always be buried in my 
heart and soul, as you 
are now in the ground. 
But we will meet again 
one day and the adventure 
will continue, for now 
goodbye.-For Andrew Wasson

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  1. Date: 11/23/2009 8:08:00 AM
    Colin you are one amazing writer. Powerful, powerful poem..

  1. Date: 11/13/2009 5:55:00 AM
    Wow. that is a really long peom. I liked it. not my type but i still liked it