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I was asked to write a poem both for you and about you.

I sat for a long time and stared at my paper and wondered,

            “How can I write about someone beyond description?

            How do I take the essence of you and condence it down into words on a page?

Will everyone understand my metaphors that represent who and what you are to me?

Does that matter?”

These words, these lines, this paper. They could never do you justice.

Because there were so many things you were. And things you weren’t.

And that was how you liked it.

You were hot coffee, but rarely decaffinated.

You were Christmas morning, but never the night.

You were unfiltered cigarettes, but never Camels

You were the slot machines, but not always Las Vegas.

You were tea steeped in the sun, but not the sun itself

You were a Buick, and always a Queen.

You were a hot fire, but not the hearth.

You were a trip to Park City, but never the snow.

You were a sweet snack after school, albeit rarely a healthy one.

You were the fun part of fishing, but done mostly off of a bridge.

You may have been music, but you were certainly never the movies.

And you were whiskey and water, but never scotch on the rocks.

You are indescribable, and always unforgettable.