Ah, the memories, the last photo in particular, Christian and I at the Mother-in -Law, brings me back to the good old days of our friendship: lazy afternoons on the lagoon in City Park, Christian rowing as I dangle the tips of my fingers, tracing lines in the duck weed, tempting the gators and reading Byron aloud ("Beppo" was one of Christian's favorites). Or riding horses along the levee at the lake, Christian's checkered sash flapping in the the wind off the water as he stares Geronimo-like into the distance, contemplating the fluctuating nuances of human intimacy. Or, on the rare occasions when his unquenchable appetite for fine spirits would lull him into a meditative intoxication, when he would improvise a whistful verse of his own in his delicate tentative voice, his eyes sparkling with romantic longing for a limitless beauty seemingly just out of reach. . . I wonder where he is now, my muse and confidant, where his infinite heart roams, wild and unafraid in the gloaming of future promise. Thank you, Christian, for all that you have given me and for the continuing nourishment I derive from your memory. Godspeed my wandering soul.
Ah, the memories, the last photo in particular, Christian and I at the Mother-in -Law, brings me back to the good old days of our friendship: lazy afternoons on the lagoon in City Park, Christian rowing as I dangle the tips of my fingers, tracing lines in the duck weed, tempting the gators and reading Byron aloud ("Beppo" was one of Christian's favorites). Or riding horses along the levee at the lake, Christian's checkered sash flapping in the the wind off the water as he stares Geronimo-like into the distance, contemplating the fluctuating nuances of human intimacy. Or, on the rare occasions when his unquenchable appetite for fine spirits would lull him into a meditative intoxication, when he would improvise a whistful verse of his own in his delicate tentative voice, his eyes sparkling with romantic longing for a limitless beauty seemingly just out of reach. . . I wonder where he is now, my muse and confidant, where his infinite heart roams, wild and unafraid in the gloaming of future promise. Thank you, Christian, for all that you have given me and for the continuing nourishment I derive from your memory. Godspeed my wandering soul.
ReplyDeleteFacetiousness at its finest my friend.
ReplyDelete