I watched you die so long ago,
eyes glistening with the sweet sweat of summer.
I held out my hand in friendship,
you responded with disdain as you withered
upon a bed of discontent, saying good-bye
with but one last glance.
The final communique of your soul.
Now in the winter of my life
I miss your smile, how it warmed my heart,
the absence of your touch shattered my world.
Somehow, someway, I managed
to see far enough down the road,
to realize I am a survivor.
Your memory will always help me grow,
even if a part of me dies once more.
I will have our special times
to get me over the rough roads.
I will be, what I will be
a man who lived, a man who loved.
A man who experienced another's soul,
that was embittered by mortal selfishness
of the person he loved to live for.
Living for myself now, but not always,
another love shall enter my life.
Hopefully not consuming my heart with such
poetic vengeance that I will be blinded
to what is the true idea of life's path.
You are there. lingering, lingering is a good thing,
for it allows us all one last chance for goodbye.
Who says winter does not linger past spring.
Timothy Michael DiVito c1992
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