deepundergroundpoetry.com
the theft
The Theft
I went visit a friend of mine it had been a year since
I last saw him when he had been at my home. He didnīt
look glad to see me but invited me in, appeared nervous
didnīt offer me anything to drink, and I felt embarrassed.
He bent forward as to say something, but changed his mind.
I made my stay short and he was relieved to see me go.
I suddenly knew way, when he last visited me some money
in an envelope on my desk, for paying bills, went missing;
I never suspected him. I got over the loss it was only
misplaced cash. Alas, he had not forgotten his theft and it
gnawed on his mind and he could no longer bear to see me,
like he blamed me for his fall from grace. Poor man if he
needed money he could have asked me. As it is I have lost
a friend who is suffering in his own private hell.
I went visit a friend of mine it had been a year since
I last saw him when he had been at my home. He didnīt
look glad to see me but invited me in, appeared nervous
didnīt offer me anything to drink, and I felt embarrassed.
He bent forward as to say something, but changed his mind.
I made my stay short and he was relieved to see me go.
I suddenly knew way, when he last visited me some money
in an envelope on my desk, for paying bills, went missing;
I never suspected him. I got over the loss it was only
misplaced cash. Alas, he had not forgotten his theft and it
gnawed on his mind and he could no longer bear to see me,
like he blamed me for his fall from grace. Poor man if he
needed money he could have asked me. As it is I have lost
a friend who is suffering in his own private hell.
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