of silver-bellied eels, and sea-snails
cooked in a rusty can.
Allow me to mend the broken ends
of shared days:
but I wanted to say
that the tree we climbed
that gave food and drink
to youthful dreams, is no more.
Pursed to the lips her fine-edged
leaves made whistle - now stamp
no silken tracery on the cracked
clay floor.
Friend,
in this drear
dreamless time I clasp
your hand if only to reassure
This one word is repeated and brings the poem to an emotional, dramatic climax. It is a direct invocation to the invisible friend, a pivot, in which the past memories are left behind and the present is addressed.
Friend