gkpoetry

Across the sea my friend was slowly dying.
Around and through a cancer fed and spread.
I knew that soon the –ing would change to –ed.

Not cured, though he had for months been trying,
We knew the time had come to reminisce
About the fun events which made our list.

A crowning glow low moods were clearly craving.
A looming specter dark and serious,
His coming death remained imperious.

And now indeed the –ing has changed to –ed.
My lovely Irish Skerries friend is dead.