a poem by Nancy Ellen Crossland, USA - poetry writer, author, poet

The summer I was twelve, my best friend moved away.

Like sisters we shared secrets and schemes;
Boys almost kissed and all of our dreams,

We shared our love of books discussing them for hours,
Adventure, love, mysteries ,nature and flowers,

On the last day before my friend moved away,
She gave me a book titled "My Best Friend".
I read it from cover to cover and back again,

My sadness was profound without my buddy around,
Until one day while walking a path we use to take,
A leaf brushed my arm before falling to the ground,

I held it in my hands turning it around
So perfect in every way with colors ablaze,
Reminding me of my friend and all those happy days,

I placed it between the pages of my book,
Often gazing at that perfect leaf
Remembering that day,

I never saw my friend again,
The saddest thing did happen,
An accident on a foggy night,
Tragically had taken her life.

Although the cover of my book is worn;
pages yellowed from age,
My perfect leaf remains a memory of a timeless friendship made

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