He Was My Friend Once

He was my friend once,
souls bared and laughter shared
over coffee and walks.

A fine man. Loved and reviled
in just the right amounts,
the mix an assurance of character,

Just enough to know he stood for things,
that he was human enough to fail,
sometimes spectacularly, sometimes secretly,

Just enough to know he lifted others up
at some considerable cost to himself.
An interesting soul

That paired well with my own stumbling walk.

He was my friend once,
and perhaps still is.
There was no falling out.

There is no anger or disagreement that separates us
into our different worlds.
more a slow, continental drift, oceans now between us.

I watch from a far shore now.
I can see him. I can see snippets of life,
what is revealed, no more,

A careful choreography of truth,
always know there is more,
for he is a man of character

And character is always complicated.
His. Yours.
He was my friend once.

About this poem

We all have friends that have drifted, or who we have drifted from. The older we get, the more we have.

The picture was taken at Cape Cod, near Provincetown.

Tom