Time is fleeting,
We spend half our lives sleeping,
Then only a quarter at most if we're lucky,
Living truly, and freely.
The best friends help us keep authenticity.

I was struck last night,
by a ghost from my travels.
Rushed, not myself,
with my mind occupied by the feelings of others.
As guilty as I felt, I saw more changed in him.
It wasn't just me or our continent.

The Golden Messiah, with bright childlike eyes,
and strongly spontaneous smiles;
Cut his sunshine locks,
Dimmed his infectious grin.
Limped the way he would run towards me.

Rushing to save him from boredom,
I had left him last on a beach;
With nothing but a loud kitten for company,
Alone to make palm leaf huts like Crusoe.
We had eaten and drunk and slept on that beach,
And did everything by the warmth of the biggest fire I'd ever seen.

Last night he needed saving but didn't ask.
he mentioned the fire with a smile I'd never seen him have.
In a buttoned up checkered skirt,
He materialised into the Portuguese
American Gothic.

The full weight of this transformation revealed itself
After the euphoria of this reunion wore off.
I bounce about and beamed at him
And said "Que louco!"
The way he had done,
The phrase had stuck with everyone he'd met.

He looked now like he'd achieved what he
Used to tell me in order to not worry
"Nada louco linda, tudo tranquilo"

Last night I was no longer staring up at him
And smiling in admiration.
The levels had changed to the point where
We just hugged tighter and tighter
To bring back the warmth of that huge fire,
and the feeling of having boredom as our only concern.