The Empty Chair

The empty chair where you sat, now's vacant,
those chuckles, those laughs, now are voiceless,
for you left unexpectedly without telling me goodbye,
the pain and the torment of your ghost now resides silently;
they tell me, "you'll forget in time,"
that's absurd, I don't want to forget,
I cry silently behind the haze of memories,
how we thought we were extreme beings
hanging on to those pictures of yesteryear,
tanned and bronzed like exalted gods, 
eternal wine flowed, women came and went,
and the music was a transient courtesan,
you had the fastest car always dernier cri, 
people huddled around you like a chief 
around a campfire as you gave free advice, 
abundant guidance for all who listened in awe,
but, that memory now is frozen in a glacier of sorrow,
my mortal hands have but a limited reach, 
but my grieving mind has an eternal memory
of you, my dearest of all friends.

* ( To Donnie Cross, my dearest friend) 

- John Hardesty