My friend Kevin Patrick Callan remembered.
We were like two gnarled old trees,
one ancient and one old.
The ancient had begun to shrink
the old, me, just shedding leaves.
We shared what shade was left.
Those shadows eased the passing time.
The breeze of laughter lit up the days,
though few of those remained, we knew.
So for those gentle times we shared
thanks are not at all enough.
Though celebration of his gifts
will guild my days as I creek on.
This old tree lives on to ancient end
Feeding still upon the richness
Of my former friend,
Interred in blessed memories.