He stopped at the bottom of the road

to far for me to see his face

Turning to look back

stood there for several minutes

then turned and continued around the corner

For some reason I do not understand I could not say good bye

Angry at what, I no longer remember

For several years I did not nothing

And though I think of him each day

I have heard little of him and nothing from him

and I still feel the vacuum

of him waiting for me to say

what he so desperately needed to hear

and the space between where I sit

and where he is right now

continues to grow.

While I sit here every evening repeating to myself

What I should have said to him