Melancholia

You came to spend some time with me
I didn't see you coming.
Memory-after-memory
Sometimes pain, sometimes pleasure.
A mellowed sun, a rippled river, light upon the waves.
The whispered-webs along the lanes
They wrapped our childhood secrets, locking them away.
Dew-dropped dreams secured

My best friend
tangible - youths unburdened smile.
But reality is - I cannot talk with him again
nor touch or feel his warmth.
We can never have those days returned.
But here - today - you sat with me - we enjoyed the view.
Your soothing voice, whispering
like waves, yielding on a beach. 

Sweet melancholia
my gentle, gentle friend.
I am not afraid of you -

Stay awhile.

Image; Art Johnstone. ‘Swans on the stream’. The Itchen. Alresford Hampshire. Remembering friends - some still with me - some gone.