My Friend The Professor
Because he was my friend
I will not mention his name
But this brief story lends
So much mystery, just the same.
We all rented that apartment
In separate units of nine-
Near the school where we sent
Our children, to save time.
But life had its testings,
And my friend, the Professor
Found his health had been failing
Soon he needed a doctor.
But the biopsy was grim
Unfortunate and not hopeful,
His chances were quite slim
And the prospects were so awful.
The cancer had advanced-
Surgery was probable,
So he took a last chance
But his end was predictable.
He would walk the early mornings
In our wide tree-lined street
A daily scene repeating
To all the people he that he meets.
He regretted dying early
For his children were still young
He would beg God sincerely
Prayed he'd live more years on.
In three months, he was gone
And we soon missed the sight
Of the Professor's walking, done
In the early morning light.
But soon stories went around
Told by many who had seen
The late 'Professor' was found-
To walk the lane where he had been.
[...] Read more
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Added by Poetry Lover
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