My dearest friend,
I tried to send a Christmas card, but it was returned.  And I remember how you are.
The feeling hit me that I will never see you again, the days of our sisterhood play in my mind.
Not like we were best friends, but you tried to teach me your knowledge.
Like how to lay the flowers just so, and how to follow the lines.

You told them I was your little sister that day we shared a beer in your dive.
We talked about men and the job, and you trusted me with touches of your life.
We spoke with Scottish accents to pass the time at work.

And you believed in me.

And I see you now, walking in your converse, jeans, and that hat, eyes a little bloodshot.
I feel happy I let you drive my car, and I still wonder at your talent.
I’m proud we shared the same last name, and that I married hands that touched you sooner.

Occasionally I miss the times, waiting by the phone, laughing at the day, longing for 3 o’clock.
And I’m glad I wasn’t scared off by your wit, your pride, and your distance.
Contented that I earned your respect, to share the things we have in common.
So I wish you well, my dear flower friend, I know that you’ve moved on.
That’s how we are.