This poem is for Ken the photographer with the tiny moleskin notebook. He requested a poem about the “death of a young friend.”

“On Leaving”

pick up
where we left
off: bonds
like friendships
and meaning
started to unravel
beneath the weighted imitation
of life. Can we go
to the beginning?
When we were younger
and in some ways wiser
our hearts invincible
able to fill
despite knowing
one day
we will forget
to say

– billimarie