It took the work of years to make us friends,<br></br>of hours of hardship, days of idle chatter –<br></br>of conflict, followed by sincere amends;<br></br>of arguments that simply didn’t matter –<br></br>and we were young, and thought we’d have our lives<br></br>to be close by and never out of touch.<br></br><br></br>How wrong we were! The memory survives<br></br>of you and I, and hasn’t tarnished much,<br></br>but you are gone and shan’t in time return.<br></br><br></br>I wonder if I come across your thoughts,<br></br>or if mine was a bridge you meant to burn:<br></br>its blackened span yet stands; its trestle rots.<br></br><br></br>It took the work of years to build our bond,<br></br>and in the space of seconds it was gone.<br></br>
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