I
I took a walk with a ghost today;
Through the forest of my mind.
I found him wandering all alone…
Trailing my grief behind.
I could see his hallowed pall of sorrow,
And my heart had stopped its beating,
His visage recalled a painful musing…
…Terrible and fleeting.
“Did you die well dear friend”?
Asks my soul from deep despair.
As all the tears catch my eyes,
To dance their misery there.
His spectral boyish hand,
Stretched out through passaged time,
And guided me to a place
Of distant, aching clime…
II
The hills around have a speckled snow,
And the valley stream runs swift.
The clouds about, hang their sadness low,
And casts my mind adrift.
A young boy who knows no cheer,
Strides happy at my arm.
A life of strife and constant fear,
Are for the moment calmed.
The day blows cold and dim,
But we are warm and light,
He with me, and I with him,
In our walking; take delight.
Oh what a happy sight to see
That freckled smile of old.
And how well I remember… that melancholy he,
Lost that day… in the darkness and the cold.
III
My inner heart smiles warm,
At the memory of that day.
How as friends we walked together;
Two young boys at play.
“Do you remember when we were ten”?
Begs my inner mind.
As I feel his phantom presence,
Steal up from close behind.
...”I remember”
He whispers unto my hidden ear.
And I am sought to weeping,
At the sadness that I hear.
“What can I do, dear friend,
That will bid your spirit well”?
His ghostly form comes close,
And sighs…
“Deliver me from hell”.
IV
The daylight shadows play long,
And our thoughts have turned to hope;
But I sense that fate has crept along,
And we teeter on its harrowed *****.
We part at the usual place,
At the park under the tree.
Our social sense forbids embrace,
And we divide unhappily.
He is unhappy to be returning,
To a home that has no hearth.
There is no love, nor fire burning,
The house is free of hope and mirth.
A timid soul kept timid,
By the biting force of hate,
A burnished light, shed amid,
The coal black storm of fate.
V
“What hell do you dwell in”?
Cries my mind from wretched keep
And the torture of my heart,
Implores my soul to weep.
“The hell of your misery”,
Whispers nothing from the dark.
I live within your heartache,
Under the sycamore at the park.
We parted unknowing at that tree
No idea, what fate had in train.
No kisses, no hugs, no parting words,
Just wind and biting rain.
But I know that you loved me,
And you may know, that as I rest;
Of all the souls in this dark, dark, world,
…”Know that I loved you best”.
VI
A shot rang out amidst the day,
Though it was silent unto me.
And there you died, and there you lay,
Under the parting Sycamore tree.
Did you die well dear friend?
Or was the pain and fear too much?
How I wish I could have held you then,
To soothe and bless and clutch.
I could have eased your dying,
And lent comfort to your soul.
But instead I lie here crying…
Untrusting, and unwhole.
It was not my fate, nor yours,
To greet eternity as friends.
I know no state, and I know no laws,
That gives solace to our ends.
VII
“I have a son now John,
He is nearing ten.
Shall I tell him of you and me,
And how we were back then”?
“Shall I tell him that I loved you,
And what a dear, dear friend you’ve been?
Or shall I keep a silence,
Unknowing , and unseen”?
A whisper comes from nothing,
So soothing in its tone.
“tell him…
That I always had a friend…
Even when I was alone”.
“Tell him that I reside,
Within the confines of your heart.
And never was I happier,
Than when we walked…
By the Sycamore at the park”.