To a Friend

I sat to pen a remembrance of you, in poetic subtleties and disguise I sought to paint a picture you. But subtleties are no veil for a pain in the soul inscribed for a mild discomfort, maybe but for a friend you, no. In verse did I seek to consider you, oh poet. in rhythm and imagery I sought to tell a story, a story you. But rhythm neer does in step move with sobs and muffled wails, and what imagery attends hollow eyes gazed upon pain. For commentaries on faceless statutes maybe but for my confidant you no. "Be strong and pen", I steadied faltering arms "to immortalise a friend in verse" I commanded, with all the tones and hue of a poem that of a boast you'd make from the heavens But a poem neer will of this poet suffice to tell for you were first a friend to me before a poet to the world. A poem thus cannot tell of the pain and hurt deeply felt May be if it was in tears pened and with sobs punctuated.