he was stooped and grey as we met in the evening
and the evening of his life
he trembled visibly and wore a dark hood like some faux death or its executant
he shook my hand feeble as a whisper
the last time you see a friend may not be the last time you think of him
he will escape this earth
and return to its soil horizontal
he may forget me
yet he will live long in my memory
like a child remembers happiness
Flynnpoetry 