Ode To A Friend Poem by Nicholas Peter

No hand of friend,
music,
or literature,
can touch you.
After all, have you not grown better?
Has your third eye opened,
and you see better and beyond,
us, your mortal friends?
and what of the old smiles?
Do YOU look at ME,
with ill contempt?
Your built arms,
could carry a thousand weights,
more than me.
Cherubim gold,
shines your hair,
or so it did,
the last time we spoke.
I miss you,
former brother,
former companion,
former friend.
Will you come back?
Maybe we could talk,
of idle things,
Maybe you would sing for us,
your melody to last for years.