It’s been a year,
Since last June.
Soon, August will come,
And sadly, never the same,
As last year.
My friend’s seat is empty,
But we’ve just barely met,
I miss his temper,
His sudden outrages.
Like geese migrating,
They take flight one
after another.
And with a fluttering of wings,
Dissapear into the horizon.
And here I am,
Still stuck,
A bird with no wings.