To Lose a Friend

To lose a friend

But not to death,

Rather, something colder

And more sinister is worse.

I speak, of course

Of time.  The ticking hands,

The blowing sands,

The fading of the sun to moon.

There’s nothing in that dark

For you to feel your way,

Not memories.  Not photographs.

Just blackness and your whimpering.

Yet, emptiness still brings the seasons

Where you endure Saharan sun,

The Arctic breeze – sometimes

With no Spring or Autumn in between.

There is no hell,

There’s only Earth;

You’ve lost your friend,

You’ve lost your world.