Don Poem by Frank Avon

He was my friend,
the very first one,
one of the best.

'We'll be buddies, '
he said, and from then on
we were.

He was always a-grinning,
always had fun,
competing and winning.

I was bullied
and teased
but not by Don,

an outsider, a loner,
alienated,
but not with Don.

When things got too bad
he was the one
to set them right.

He held me
together
when I was falling apart;

he warned me
when I needed to be
warned;

he admired me
when there was not much
to admire.

We were always desk mates,
he liked it that way
when I couldn't see why.

He was the captain,
everyone liked him;
I was his sidekick.

He put me forth
when I would have
stayed way behind.

But he saw something in me
that no one else did,
least of all me.

I knew, even then, he was genuine,
he was courteous,
he was kind.

He loved his family,
and they loved him;
to me, they were ideal.

He loved our school,
which I thought was the pits;
but he saw what was good.

He loved life,
and was always eager
to try - to win.

As grown men,
we seldom saw each other -
drifted apart,

but when, at last,
we got together again,
it was as it had always been.

'When you're around,
let's have lunch,
spend time with our friends.'

We planned,
we would
whenever there was time.

And then
one day
Don was gone.

Too soon,
too much unsaid,
too long....

If there's a heaven,
I shan't hold
for streets of gold;

just a tree of life
by the river of life -
and friends of old.

All would be well,
Don would see to it.
So be it. Shalom.

He always said, You're our leader,
and he saw to it that it should be,
but now I know (as I always sensed)

it was he,
it was he,
it was he.