A friend of mine may be dying. Would that there are miracles, and there may yet be. Prayer and kindness, keeping my side clean, it’s what I can do. Mourn the loss of innocence if you will, but better to grab hold of everyday, squeeze it like the old song said, ’til it shines. One day, everyday, one at a time is a gift, an obligation, a tool. On account of we may not pass this way again. I am missing absent friends.