My Best Friend

My best friend was a happy soul
Of peaceful psychedelic kind,
Who lived a natural sort of life
Of growing heart, expanded mind —

And who believed that inner good
Could make the world a better place;
And I have missed him all these years,
To see reflected, in his face,

This ride, this life, the way he saw.
We long for love, we search for sense —
Perspective’s irreplaceable,
And we lose worlds whenever we

Lose friends

Author: Owen Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure. View all posts by Owen Servant