By Jeanmarie
Date: 4 November 1998

For J

Your sparkling light and
that of your incubating babe
were carelessly, thoughtlessly
snuffed out in the blink of an eye.
Taking with you, memories that
took a lifetime to live, to create.
Now, thirty years of memories
are what I have to cling to.
As vivid and precious as they are,
my mind's eye is not clear enough
to quench my undying thirst for
what would have been, should have been.
I almost picked up the phone yesterday
to catch us up on busy, broken lives.
Am I glad that I didn't?  Do I wish I had?
Would I have known that it
was necessary to say good-bye
to the friend I've had forever?
I always knew that you were too much
for this world, just as you felt you
were never quite enough.
Over coffee this morning, I
reminisced about girl scouts,
sleepover parties, first dates, 
our weddings, the births of our children.
These bonds we've always shared.
Now you'll slumber alone, 72 inches down.
Now that I know it happened
I believe I heard the squeal of brakes,
the clash of metal across the miles...
and heard your soul scream to me
at the injustice...as death's cold fingers
stole your light away from me
and claimed you as their own.

Ca