JohnbyCharlesMeadors

John

As I stand and watch Boeuf River, memories flood my mind.
Most of them are happy, but one is most unkind.

I can't help but remember when that ghostly deed was done.
The day Boeuf River, took the life of my best friend John.

It was a Sunday afternoon and we had just finished our repast
We decided to take a swim, not knowing it would be John's last.

It was early in a the spring and the water was cold and deep
Both of which would lead to John's eternal sleep.

I was standing in chest deep water, when I heard John call my name
I immediately swam to help him, as I knew he'd done the same

I said, "John take my hand, everything will be alright."
Instead he grabbed my body, a reaction to his his fright.

We sank in the deep water as I struggled to get free
I almost broke the surface before he once more grabbed hold of me

It seemed my lungs would burst as I struggled to reach air
I brought him to the surface, but could not hold his hair.

I saw him sink below the surface, and knew my efforts had been in vain.
As I struggled to reach the shore, I had never know so much pain.

For forty years I've questioned, the events of that day
Why did God spare me, and take my friend away?

Perhaps it's not the number of years we live, that mean so very much
But the impact we have on others that we are privileged to touch

If God uses this yard stick, then I would understand
For John had lived a full life, though not yet a man.

Charles F. Meadors