A Willed Book Of Poems Poem by Jenny Kalahar

A poet friend has gone
has died
has left and
long months pass
before I feel I can open a poetry book she left me
one she had opened
and enjoyed
and it is an indescribable feeling
to hold and let my eyes touch
words she touched

I wonder if her feelings were the same
but no …
No reader ever reads the same words in the same way.
We all carry our own memories
and let our own visions bloom
with each line
stanza
poem
page.
But even so,
there is a timeless companionship
and I almost feel her looking over my shoulder
making me wait
until she has caught up to the last line and word
before I close the book again