Within my heart is hollowness, where once was joy and mirth.
I scream in rage and shed hot tears, like a woman giving birth.
I am reborn, my passion renewed, my urge to write restored.
Ah, but what a sacrifice was made, for such a paltry reward.
What dreams we shared, what conversations held;
How our thoughts so often would meld.
Oh, we had our fights, and disagreements not a few;
Yet we were brothers of the mind, and our friendship only grew.
You always praised my talent, though your own was just as good,
You sought to motivate me, when not another would.
At last I roused myself, and shook loose the webs of sloth;
Alas, our time had passed, our dreams are so much froth.
We never took that Egyptian trip we often talked about,
Nor did we publish work together, it would have been so stout!
I tried my best to cheer you up, and renew your zest for life,
Yet your soul was bruised and battered, by she who was your wife.
This much my friend I promise, so long as I draw breath,
Your memory will urge me on, even as I curse your death.
You felt your life was over, when it could have just begun,
There was still so very much you could have seen and done.
In memory of David W. Kimmel, confidant, critic, artist, poet, and most
importantly to me....always a friend.
