friendship poetry

let me move slowly through the street
you are beautiful and faded
over the river they beckon to me
there is no flock, however watched and tended
see, from this counterfeit of him
in and of itself
for then without
melancholy days have come
why are the things that have no death
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
let a joy keep you
though love repine, and reason chafe