My Friend

Harry was my friend
Always dependable and kind.
People never really understood him.
People never really cared,
Yet he was always there.

Monday he came to an end,
Only it is hard to define.
The only thing I can say to them:
Harry is dead from a gunshot, Vietnam.
Even then he was there.

Remember I was his friend.
Summer we met, it was 1959.
Dead from a gunshot, Vietnam
Always there on time.

Yes, he was there.

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This Poems Story

My poetry tells the story of my life. It tells where I was and what I was going through at that time. It covers the years from 1963 at age nineteen to 2015, age seventy-one. Many of my poems have hidden messages in them. The key is to take the first letter of each line all the way down. Such is the case of my poem "My Friend."