every time
I add milk
when scrambling eggs
I go back
to your house
in Massachusetts
you making breakfast
and telling me your secret
that look of joy
mixed with mischief
a twinkle in your eye
ah old friend
dead two years
before I knew
and regret
filling my heart
for losing contact
with eggs and bacon
and the sound
of your clear voice
your guitar
on sandy beaches
of our youth
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Leonard Durso 
I have similar regrets about a friend killed in the opening salvos of the Ukrainian war
Regret for what one did not do, remorse for what one did that cannot be taken back. Both such anvils on one’s heart.
Yes, indeed
Beautiful poem! Memory of someone special always hurts us ! Well shared 💐
Thank you.
💐
Just having pictures on a bookshelf is not enough. One has to try for personal contact as well.
Yes right 👍 read my book if possible.
It is sad to let a good friend slip away. Remind us not to lose our grip.
Staying in touch becomes even more important as we age.