for B.W, former classmate
I stumbled on something you wrote
the other day and was surprised and glad
glad of the path you seemed to have taken
glad of the change that came by your token
glad that you were the same
as I remembered
you, soft spoken, wary of breaking
a confidence, wary of shaking a word
and rather than hurting a conscience
you spent your waking conscious
like a concerned hummingbird over blooms
there were heaping spoonfuls of creativity
in your camomile attitude
with such contradiction in an aura
you truly never ceased to amaze me
so I can use that clichéd line without flinching;
like the time you delayed handing in your writing
at the end of the writer's course, for marking
delayed, as in, indefinitely.
were you frightened of judgement?
did you discount yourself, or were you lazy?
I really don`t know; you weren't there to clarify.
or the time you had that performance in the play
really it couldn't have been anyone but you
but then, to the cornered eye, it couldn't -
you didn't seem the sort when you receded.
you won't remember me; I don't mind.
I consciously tried not to talk to you much
we don't need to strike up a camaraderie
you know I won't do it out of modesty
I know you won't do it out of respect
suffice it to say I honestly liked you -
you're a deeply swell sort, so may God guide you;
I think you have the spirit of a tree
waiting to burst into Spring.
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