A farewell to two poets that have only just passed on: Sandra Fowler and Sonya Florentino. R.I.P., dear friends.

 

on taking the early train

`



Yes, I will try to be brave
just like you'd want me to be;
here I am waiting on shared memory:


Dear old friend, where might you be?
And where is it that we have arrived:
now we're quickly fading into oft-turned pages

that lay dog-eared upon sweet serenity
while a fresh film of dust settles on table tops,
while train carriages shrink into the distance
that could only part-reveal their silent witness.

Yes, our time together, though passed on too soon,
brought us at the crossroads of our existence.
Your friendship has left such an imprint on my soul,
in my thought & yearning you shall forever remain.

Reminiscence is now all that is left
and the garden grows wild without your presence,
friend, my dear friend, where might you be?


 

`

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