I've failed to reestablish the habit of regular writing. While doing some research for something I stumbled across a poem I wrote in a comment thread some 9 years ago. Amusingly I saw that my (now) wife had also posted in that thread; for the world is small.

As I wrote it some number of computers ago, and on a computer, that thread is probably the only place it remains. The nature of the net is such it may never have permanence (I suppose I could print it out, and add to my other poetry, but it seems unlikely).

It's not a very polished work, but here it is.  A little thing, but it is mine.


In broken meter

Ave atque vale, Frater
If not for this man, then the next

I didn't know him, save through friends
Whose grief alone our measure makes

I feel as though I'm oil on water
Brilliant, shining, fading, gone

Too soon will I be dead and done
Too few will know I ever was

Too many will (I hope) be saddened
To see me go, as he has gone.