I want to write something for you
something special
but it seems that won't do.

You were something far beyond us.
Some unreachable star.
Already.
Ten years back - seventeen -
Late nineties.

All of us craved for you.
He did more than I,
he was probably right.
But he died
not from it -
from something closer to what he had always been
 - ludicrous -
but not quite
the same.

I want to write something
because I surfed past you a lot lately
and saw how grown-up you are
half smiling
bare naked
in front of cameras
reading your poems
& prose
to audience
everywhere
you go.

I wanted to write something special
but it seems I didn't.Do
you care if I hate you
now?

He'd written something for you.
Something special.
Something good.
Let's not the tea go cold -
it was called.
He is cold now
and so are you
lost in the Swiss snow.

 © Walter Ruhlmann (Previously published on Magnapoets )

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