Poetry

Without restraint you gave all of your heart,
while we became much more than just dear friends
and even in your most beautiful art
your greatest passion swept to perfect ends,
in the way that your brush, your pencil bends
and in the late summer of our bonded lives
there is nothing that anyone pretends
as constantly new meaning living gives,
and as we do to and thro daily dart
now it’s most painful when we are apart,