Losing Friends And Lovers Poem by Ian Bowen

Sad, how this
as turned out,
I could have sworn
that this was the Real McCoy,
for t all seemed
so perfect
as we walked
in Summer fields,
talked,
and found….

we agreed on everything.

I never blundered
a moment,
when embarrassing
quiet times,
boiled my
hot, heavy head
for lost words….

for it flowed
like the best of poems
and sprinting streams.

But, rivers run dry,
when the sun stays too long
and the art of conversation
turns on its head
to disagree.


Yes, it was good
while in bloom
and maybe,
just maybe,
I have learned
lessons that will
stand me
in good stead
as I punch
the pillow….

another one dead.