When We Were Younger Poem by Harvey Horst

Dear, Raymond
when we were younger
I hit you over the head
with a milk jug.

I'm sorry about that.
But these things happen,
there is no helping it.
Yet still, I think about it.

How the milk leaped
out of the broken glass
then dove down
to the plank vinyl.

The way you fell after it.
So limp, I didn't know
how limp you'd become.
And I think about it constantly

Your burgundy blood
swirling in the pure white.
I can't help but think of it.
What a waste of milk.