My friend, my comrade
Throughout these many years,
With age and deep, dark scars,
You've been my friend, my comrade.
When I fell to the rocky bottom,
And it seemed like I would never resurface,
You hoisted me up, and let me cry.
Sometimes I still sit on the porch,
Listening to the birds sing in the heated summer,
They remind me of you, the muse.
When I wanted to leave and give up,
You told me I had to keep fighting,
Even when I knew I was in a losing battle.
Then the winter came and went,
Leaving you crippled and sick,
It was my turn, the outcast.
I helped you for three years,
As you lay on your deathbed,
Tears pricked the eyes of strength.
I grabbed hold of your hand as you fell,
You looked up, and for a brief moment,
You were restored in health.
You looked pale and fragile as glass,
The light had left your once bright eyes,
You told me to let you go, but I couldn't.
I cried myself to sleep for many nights,
Watching as you faded into darkness,
You died on a Wednesday evening.
Throughout these many years,
With age and deep, dark scars,
You were my friend, my comrade.
