I remember you reading from a battered book
The words of Shakespeare
Mercutio dying in the arms of friends
If only your death had been as Romantic
If only we all met such sweet ends
It was an icy night . . . such a cold November
And the way it hurts me now to remember
Who you were and how much I gave you
My soul was written in the words I let you read
And when you died! Oh--
How every letter and dark page began to bleed!
I would like to blame myself for what I can't control
And not without a reason, for I knew there was an end
But never once did I believe
The death of a trusted friend.
So they took your body back to Scotland
Where I trust you are at peace
But for me . . . alive . . . ah, not so well--
If ever I be at ease
Because your ghost still walks beside me,
And I see you on the stairs,
And your Scottish voice so lovely,
Still hangs thick upon the air
And I promise I won't forget you
That's the penance that I offer
And for you I'll live forever
My life; the sacrifice I proffer.
Copyright (c) by M.R. Haden 1997
Reason for writing:
The death of a friend.
Birth sign: Not entered
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