Happy Birthday, Friend.
“You’re still here”.
Yesterday’s sunny sky will glare down still
Unkind feelings with strikes that kill,
Most of us are still bitter, still cold, but some of us never wilt.
In a dream within a dream,
A summer sky haunts us in the orange gleam
Some of us didn’t live to see it, having torn at the seams.
Unkind words still strike with fear
Killing blows dealt to those so dear
And yet, you’re still here.
Poetry lives in the sunny sky, I’d choose to fly, but you’re not there.
Jokingly, you’d slap my arm and laugh.