I stay up late in thought of you,
Burning incense to the god of sorrow.
Morning comes, I dry my eyes,
Till my devotion is due tomorrow.
Perhaps one day the phone will ring,
And a voice will speak on the other end.
Perhaps I will hear the hello,
Of a dearly missed friend.
Perhaps you will say I am forgiven,
Thursday, February 13, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: death of a friend