We sat in my battered Vauxhall,
Chatting about nothing special.
Silly things that teenagers observe
About life.
He said my shirt was out of fashion.
I said that I didn't care,
That I followed no one.
He being him, just shrugged.
Catching each other's glance
We chuckled.
Thanking me for the lift
He got out, slamming the door.
I shouted a curse after him.
He knew how much that annoyed me
But that was my pal,
He'd do it just for the hell of it.
I watched him walk up to his house
Though he never turned to wave.
I never saw him again.
The crash that took his life
A week later
Took part of me also
And made me realise with horror
That for some people
Eighteen is as far as you get.
Now I cherish each day that I breathe
And every wind-raked March
I take Daffodils to his grave.
There standing, I mumble into the roaring wind
Above his polished stone
And tell him how I've grown.
