each day that this silence continues
is another nail in the coffin of our friendship
another nail impounded downward towards the grave that is being dug
the dirt is no longer fresh
just old memories turning to dust

quick where's some water
where's some nourishment to bring back what I thought we shared
but in the distance
is your apparition shaking your head
to let it die
your ghost image steps up to shovel in the dirt

what was alive
is buried now
gone
never to be resurrected

07/17/2004

Posted on 01/18/2005
Copyright © 2024 Mark Maxey