Friend
Me and my friend
- he who died -
he will put his finger on my shoulder,
somehow I'm feeling kinda older,
my friend and me
- a yellow face when dead had he -
I can still recall his brown eyes
and the love and the lies
frozen ice, cold mornings, late nights.
How can I be so much just me?
In the green grass
at the roots of the tree
I can still see thee...