Poem for TH

Two months on from your wake,

and I see you more than I did when you were alive.

I see you in the dimly lit morning fog

and sense you in the grocery line,

Standing in the back shadows, smoking, grinning

and looking at the faceless crowd.

I felt guilty that I couldn't save you, couldn't stop

you from tumbling into the darkness,

Though nothing I could express would have helped,

or made you be a friend to yourself.

All I can do now is keep waiting until my time

expires, and we can meet again,

In the back of some spectral cafe you sit, patiently

smoking and waiting for your friends to arrive,

one by one.