I still remember her as though
She was among the living;
The years have passed into a haze
Of learning, and forgiving –

For young we were; and life was light,
And what we took seemed easy:
But days passed into nothingness,
A different kind of breezy

Than that which we displayed so well.
Well, she did, most of all —
And fondness, now, is what I find
Whenever I recall

Our youthful, well, ‘experiments’.
We tried, we failed, we sinned —
But I can love her as she was,
As breezy as
The wind

[The friend I describe here died when she was twenty-four and I was twenty-seven. – Owen]

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