We were close, more than friends, for a while.

Not lovers, too young but I loved you.

So strong, so lithe, so beautiful to watch

cleaving water in dive or languid stroke.

Loved you with look and thought, never words.

Too frightened to speak, afraid to lose you

but we wove our hands and I felt the joy.

Our lips never met except in dreams.

Half a century has fled yet still you touch me.

Our lives, clay thrown on the world’s muddy wheel.

One potter, one clay, one chance to be one,

lost forever except in minds that reach.

Life has been kind, I have my own sweet love.

I have those who hug me and call me Dad.

I have many happy, proud, sad thoughts.

In my heart I keep a small place for you.

David Garlick, Victoria, January 1995