Twas a long night of walking,
But we passed it by quietly talking.
My friend unnamed and I
Would soon part ways
Beneath the great dark sky.
We did not know it then,
But as every road splits
So do good friends.
We did not know each other’s names,
Yet we passed the time playing license plate games.
That night in London, on Christmas Eve,
We talked for hours not wanting to leave.
Then a bomb hit,
The building was smitten.
But my unnamed friend and I
Did not part ways
Under the burning sky.
Now one year later
We break tradition.
Though we enjoy the other’s company,
We trust our intuition.
For we know
That the other has further to go.
A better life to live,
A different path.
Yet we shall not worry
About a last laugh.
Because despite all our faults,
We want the best for each other
As were brother and brother.
And we are at heart
Because as we part,
We feel something breaking deep inside of us.
My path is past the wreckage and ruin,
But his, his basks in it’s light.
He wishes to keep up the fight,
To stay in this night, to say we were right.
Each to his own, I suppose.
Yet, I feel something missing.
As though we had been together for so long
That we had become inseparable.
An eternal question.
What happens when the inseparable
We shall find out, I suppose.
My friend disappears from sight,
Gone to go off and continue the fight.
He loves the war, and war loves him.
My good friend,