The absent friend
You left, but left something behind.
I listen to your voice, although it's gone,
but hear it still in its warm booming depth
and look each morning for your place out there
and seem to see you still out on the terrace,
or is this I see just what you left behind,
a memory, the pain of breaking up,
the most reluctant difficult departure,
as if you left all the most important parts of you
still here with me, while you removed your body only?
Still, we keep in touch, like brothers of a common destination,
ships that met alone out in the desert ocean
for a brief encounter of remarkable importance
never sailing from each other quite away again
however far we travel on our way in different directions.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2014-11-11 at 10:24
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