Friday, March 23, 2012

Potato Pete Will Seem So Far Away

Old friend though young as I and wise as time
what words have you to offer my troubled ears and shredded soul
and though you leave to mend shards of this broken globe in your own unique way
I will grieve the loss of your presence in my life

My brother, my mentor, my friend, be well
and forget me not when the tide of the plight in which you wade grows too cold
for I will be in the Mitt awaiting your return


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