Remember where we used to meet?
That woodland clearing near the stream.
The autumn maples hid our purpose,
a hazy-golden-light-like dream.
Upon a bench at mossy mound,
you waited deep in prayer one evening,
and though I did not keep my word,
still you wait, your promise keeping.
Every day, I think of you –
my loyal friend you’ll ever be –
and how I’ve failed to hold on to
the tie that bound your heart to me.