First

You are the first for me to leave,

And now it’s mourning for us all.

I’m unsure of how I should feel,

Unsure if I should feel.

It’s been a few days, I think,

For me it’s less surreal, more real.


I’ll recite Auden for you on Monday

Although, I’m not sure if it is fitting.

Maybe I’ll see you in the back row,

Or feel your hand on my shoulder.

I don’t think I want you to be there,

You’re free. You’re free; don’t return.


I’m glad I sat with you before,

It had felt right.

I sat with you for two hours, although,

I wish it had been three or four.

Clocks whizzed twelve hours on,

You were able to drift away.