Friendship's potential / stolen from me and others / by the thief of days.

The book of friendship
many chapters unwritten
my co-author died.


First, last exchanges
with a recent friend, now made
precious by her death.

Now I’ll never know
what kind of friend she might be
because she is gone.

Unfinished friendship
only recently begun
ended suddenly.

. . .

Today I learned that someone I “met” through friends online (via Instagram and Facebook) with similar interests (photography, the Hipstamatic camera app, art, etc.), had died.

I didn’t really know her, but she seemed nice, interesting and creative.

My sadness was because the possibility of knowing her had been robbed from me.

I might have known her better one day, I might have become good friends with her, or not.

I will never know.

 Five haiku/senryu poems poured out of me as a result…

 – the Haikook