Undrown Memory Poem by Smoky Hoss

I still think sometimes of the boy who drown.
That summer I was 8 or 9, or was it 6 or 7?
I often wonder if his soul is still at the lakes bottom,
or gone off to heaven.
I don't recall ever even seeing him alive,
perhaps like me he had a fishing pole and a 3-speed bike,
I do believe had we a chance to meet
he'd have been someone I would come to like.
A friendship that never was,
yet perhaps meant to be,
therefore it is possible, somehow, he still lives
somewhere deep down, inside of me.
Oh, that beautiful and terrible sunny day
he went for a final swim,
killed was a friendship
never allowed to begin.
Here it is 45 years later; my how
everything has changed since way back when,
and yet, I still think of him...
every now and then.