I came upon Neruda today,
laying open, catching the sun
Just sitting there on the old  wooden bench

Much loved and well thumbed,
spine broken, ringed a dozen times
with tea, coffee, goodness know what..

That lugubrious face, staring sightlessly
out into, the world...

and my thoughts, drifted,  to you,
my friend, whose voice I never heard
but knew the passion of the writer,
He Pablo, was one of your heros..
and as I flicked through the beauty
of words, so emphatic and beautiful
so sublime, so masterfully crafted.

I paused and smiled, thinking of
you and he sitting on a park bench
on some other plane....
discussing words and their worth...

I left Neruda there to captivate
another mind and heart....

and went on my way...
somewhat
lighter of heart....