January 18th, 2007

(this poem is about an old friend that I got to see after a six-year hiatus)

It is foolish to think
That one night can capture
A lost episode.

How could I tell her
Of all the wars I had fought?
The daily truths that are harshly forgotten.

How could I show her
All the good my hands have done?
The events few people are privee.
The events that make up Me.

How could I catch up with
Who has morphed into
A beautiful and pleasant
Stranger?

People know of her wars,
Her hands and self.
My laughter turns to tears;
It was once me.