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.
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