When we were younger we'd play in the storms

handprints on clothes and shoelaces torn.

We'd straggle in with our hair a wreck

...those were the best days of our lives.

-

In early morning I hear the phone ring

scuffling but beat by the answering machine –

and the words reverberate in my head

stock still, with a heart of hard lead.

-

All they can say is "it wasn't an accident."

The words seem to thunder and roar –

I can't seem to make sense of life anymore.

-

Now you've left I can't stop to wonder

why you never talked about the end

of this story, as I fight not to go under

and follow you, my dearest friend.

I'll never see your smile again.

-

For now I'll spend my days dancing in storms

with mud on my clothes and shoelaces torn.

I'll keep playing for you, my friend

until the day I can see you again.