While on the Mallorca beach I wondered how Felix, or Regis, Lady J and Sandie May were writing...and reading.
Suddenly I felt alone despite of all the thousands milling around.
I was suddenly back in my fox-hole looking at thousands of unfriendly shadows, missing my friends.
The allowed pencil went over the allowed notebook to write this...

Dawn, the sun wants to sleep another hour,
over the horizon peeks the Morning Star
showing the way up to a lazy Art Sun
on a Southern Comfort kind of blue sky.

from the African desert the warm winds blow
holding Andre Bendavi's whispering poetics sounds,
as Mr. Ed, Andy, Ted, Susan and Alexandra,
like small waves sing me their morning song.

A sand castle three smal children built,
to hold Tinka, Richar C and George JC thoughts,
with a water filled moat so Kimmy, Joyce, Dan L,
ET, Debby, William and Linda can swim around.

So many friends waiting, one feels alone then,
when poems from Karen and Jude stops to come,
as wells as Nam's EW, or Larry, or La Belle,
with Chantilly and Gwendolin's sweet welcome.

The solitude on the beach provoked a thought,
to send to ALL of my friends a few words,
to those I named and everyone else I didn't forgot,
in the brevity of an haiku, the purest form...

FRIENDS...

in moments of despair
is good to have friends holding
our weak soul upright.





Thank for choosing to be my friends, I really missed you.
GEM