It's far too soon to say goodbye
There is so much more we could try
If only we had time «put by»
To draw upon
But life is finite, sands run out
Before we know what we're about
We grasp in vain – are left with nowt
Our friend's moved on.
Regrets - Sinatra had a few
We look back sadly; what's to do?
The life-thread of our friend's cut through
We feel bereft
If only we had spent more time
And shared life with our friend sublime
Instead of drinking this last wine
At his sad death.
(c) Poet in the woods 2014