Untitled 2017 2

An old handwritten poem of a dear friend.

I don't know where you are now

I'd presume that you're in school

I'm unsure if I should feel shame at how

I use your memory like a tool

It shines a light toward my eyes

when my head is stuck in clouds

If presented the chance, I'd try

to give the same if allowed

I hope the piece I left you

Still shines like a light when in need

It's still yours even if you've a man new

As I'm too far to give you good deeds