April Poem 11

I think of chiselling an ice-cube
And colouring it grape-green
Think of engraving a little picture on there
Somewhat like a picnic scene
In memory of a friend I shared
The dawn of fading innocence with
When love and friendship were clear and dear
Not beguiling fuzz like today's urban myth
I think of leaving that ice-cube outside
In memory of my friend who, quietly, passed away
I think of recording what we share still,despite her death,
And only a melting ice-cube would know what to say.