when the good die young or something of the sort
through out time lives cut short
I imagine the lost potential for witty remarks
as you stood there smiling in the park

lost idiosyncratic knowledge and exchange of thought
as you sat there at the terrace behind a beer you bought
like a pierced barrel of wine running empty to the earth
like purpose lost for giving birth

you see the lorry would simply not relent
as it screeched on the sidewalk around the bend
and now its wheels forever run behind my eyes
through war and peace and the scars of time

I must remember you
as a day of sunshine

 

***maxheadroams2017