I cannot recall our crowning farewell,
Nor can I say for how long I will dwell,
and now that you’re gone I’m left in this space,
chained to the anguish of our friendship’s grace;

memories soft as a hummingbird’s breath,
now whip like wings on the angel of death,
am I to be cast into wind as ash?
Or pulled by griffins in a torched calash?

Where flees purpose when all that is close goes?
Lost with the scent of a last dying rose,
I wilt in a garden of dirt and stone,
where nothing is left of all that was sown.

Cruel are the joys now mantled by the past,
how much longer can a gutted man last?
Ropes in high branches o’er waters so deep,
a final act stage my sadness let’s creep.

As nightmares perch among black-feathered crows,
night terrors thrust me back into life’s throes,
estranged in the knowing of this mortal coil,
wherein morrow’s faith rots in barren soil.

Why can’t I remember seeing you last?
Taking for granted the moments that passed.
Now my friend rests in stars of the Centaur,
as I tarry life left by my mentor.

 Bound by the sorrows that shackle me still,
yet moved by the links that break with my will,
 I bleed on the edge between now and yore,
bloodletting this heart ‘til it dwells no more.

I wrote this poem as an elegy; a song of sorrow for a departed friend.