Before He Drowned In the River;

His blind eyes didn’t see the get-well cards

His cold touch didn’t feel the many presents.

He stared into space, completely unaware

Of the boy standing by his bedside.

He could only hear the roaring of the black river

Ragingly rushing before him.

But then he could hear

The music-like voice of his fellow.

“I’m not going to let you go

without me watching over you.”

One warm palm was placed

Over five icy-cold fingers.

His soul seeping from him gradually,

With excruciating aching,

His vision cleared,

And for one last time,

He saw the anxious eyes of his friend,

Like two tear-drops about to fall.

He longed to respond with

A tender reassurance,

But the arctic grip

Cradling his heart

Restrained his attempt.

And his fellow’s face fell at the silent “Farewell.”