Oft’ in my thoughts, that little dog eared book
There with it’s spine cracking and un-binding.
I see you in the side-scrawled notes you took.
Fraying edges mean more than I’m finding.
The very last thing you ever gave me,
Oh and how it binds us together still.
No idea what its origins could be.
The last mystery you keep, what a skill.
Never to discuss what we thought it meant,
Argue for hours until morning dew.
The last thing to me that you ever lent,
and yet with no chance you ever knew.
Always my guide, my reservation thief,
my inspiration, my friend and my chief.