The Passing of Special Ones.

When I noted of your quiet passing through remarks,
I remembered you, as this small yellow white flower
for which I know no no name for it.

I wrote in search your name escaped me,
the words, small white yellow flower,
there you are as you had reappeared
the way I had imagined you,
Your name came back,
just as you will.

Your very presence had always dotted along the highway,
For which I don’t know what season is this,
Except it was warm, pretty warm,
with soft winds caressing my cool face,
I remembered thus because I had stopped somewhere safe,
alighted from the car and gave some space.

I stood by the side of the road and admiring all the glory,
and in awe of your friends you are now with.
You are among the Special Ones, ones that I do not well enough,
other than chance,
through passing,
by smiling, by greeting,
by communicating,
With words, references,
the traditions, the stories that you had shared,
strange, I know, so I thought
and many more mysteries of yourself,
for which I pry not.

You left a mark etched in me deep , I didn’t know,
Just as this one strange by-passer now joining me,
Standing side by side, admiring the same.
Wordless we nodded, so it would seemed
I stand by this road, alone, no more.
Pulling my windbreaker closer to my neck,
talking to you, admiring your friends, listening to the sun,
a moment of silence as the long shadows passed.

I went my way, he went his,
went the way we had came from,
perhaps I’ll remember,
Perhaps not,
Perhaps never to return the same spot.
But indeed you are now with the Special Ones.
a Toast to the empty air, A dear friend, for whom I missed,
wishing I was there, having taken noticed,
smiling now, the sun in my eyes,
There you are. never miss.
[sic] life,
the yellow white flower
in the mist.

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