Govinda called upon the Buddha.
Seated 'neath a lotus, Buddha, busy meditating,
Buddha seeking for perfection, Buddha, busy, did not notice.
Govinda found this alienating yet shrugged off the rejection.
"Very well, my cherished friend, I'll call on you tomorrow,"
Govinda said, "when you suspend your flight from human sorrow."

Govinda tried the after-day as Buddha exercised
both mentally and physically.
Govinda realized they would not have a lot to say.
Govinda, tired, departed confused and heavy-hearted.

And thus it went week after week.
One time alone did Buddha speak;
"Perhaps before next month is through
  I'll carve some spare time out for you..."

Govinda's love began to fray as Buddha walked the 8-fold way.

Govinda seated by the Ganges watched the water flow.
The river ran along.
The ripples sang a song.
Govinda came to know that stones will turn to sand,
closest friendships dry.

Govinda raised his hand and waved the past goodbye.
He watched the herons fly, memories in his eye.