I can still hear your voice, my friend,
Rising easily over the din,
You’re cooking too much food,
And saying something rude,
And welcoming someone else in.

I know you’re away, my friend,
But it can’t really be all that far,
You’ve gone out for a dance,
Put a split in your pants,
Or made seven new friends at the bar.

You’re probably busy, my friend,
Not a second of your time is wasted,
You’re laughing at jokes,
Making strong rum and cokes,
And the best meals that anyone’s tasted.

So thanks for it all, my friend,
Even if I forget some small bits,
I will always still hear you,
Even though I’m not near you,
Shouting “Oy! This’ll rip off your tits!”

I miss you so fiercely, my friend,
All the way down to my core,
But you sure let it rip
And then took that last ship
And left us all wanting for more.

And wherever you are, my dear friend,
Even if that’s somewhere above,
Thanks for showing us living,
Is for laughing and giving,
And that everything comes down to love.

Bryson Thomas