I remember you running
on a flight of laughter
wind in your uncut hair
eyes crisp with wit.
I ran, gasping, after you
branches snapping back at me
biting at my sun-burnt skin
bare feet sparking the grass.
You were the first to kiss me
the first to make me giddy
with insincere love, undeveloped.
I remember it all –
your craziness, how you made
me laugh.
At night I would dream
as I lay awake
about you, a tiny boy
with a world of imagination.
Together we sat by the water
staring at the ripples
we made with our toes.
But I would not jump
from that old brick bridge
though you pleaded with me so.
I would not sneak out at night
to whisper with you into the darkness.
You begged me to run far away
to risk, to experiment, to live …
If, now, I could do it all again,
I would give in to your pleas.
You would find me beside you
running with you instead of
behind you.
I would do anything now
if I could look into your eyes
once alive with spirit, with light.
I would do anything now
to hear your voice, your breath
to jump from the bridge with you
into the shock of cold water.
There, you are still alive.
There, in that place
where we played together,
You were so real, so vivid
and I was the shadow without life.
Now it is so hard to realize
that you are the one without life,
buried in a shadow of memories.