Last published
is not necessarily last met.
I could meet people over pages,
and files, and messages.
Over virtual coffee and biscuits.
Over a pizza and brunch.
Over politics and then lunch.
I could meet people
over all the food and drink.
I could see them
within every blink.
I could make friends in two's
over texts and our blues.
We talk about all that is gone
Happening now and now torn.
We crib, direct and maim,
We talk of all the pain.
Much has come and gone,
we are still singing our song.

If everything could tremble
we could have done it.
If there was a rumble,
we would have done it.
If we were born in a jungle,
we should have done it.

Last met
is not necessarily last seen.
I could see you in pictures.
On turfs unsold and plains.
On beautiful canoes and trains.
In parties and in games.
Through soil and refrain.
I could see you in pain.
In sharing and in gain.
We met through a window,
we met in self contain.
Much has wilted and waned,
we are still not to blame.

If a fist could crush concrete,
we are the saint.
If they fell with a tumble,
we left out the paint.
If a dream capsized,
we didn't dream to dream again.

Last seen,
is not for sure the last has-been.