For Steve, Whose Last Name I Didn'T Know, Dead At 45 Poem by Heidi K. Haskell

Who gets the motorcycle, and your dog?
Who will appreciate the tank you rebuilt?
I guess now you'll sleep like a log.
With casual friendship and casual goodbye comes casual guilt.
Am I lamenting a girl who's lost her father,
A son with whom there's no more chance to mend,
The neighbor who has no one left to bother?
Or all, or none? I think I just miss my friend.
Left here with a sadness with no place to go.
You were someone's brother, father, son, but none of mine.
And more's the pity - how little we know!
I told you that you would be fine.