dark-haired boy,
locks and laughter intertwined,
what a friend you were.
though I feared you at first,
you became a safe haven,
a beacon of hope,
a place to stand.
where did you go?
your hair grew,
and your soul did too.
maybe mine was too tired
to keep up.
once we talked of everything,
now only weather remains.
damn the insufferable pride of men.
I miss you.
I don’t care about the weather.
the unworthy wanderer 