This poem and I have quite a history together. I started writing this one in 1991 after a friend of mine (who was 16 at the time) died behind the wheel while under the influence. There is at least 5 different published versions of this poem, but here's the latest one.
Putting pieces together and
Trying to make them fit--
Trying every possible way,
Even forcing them in.
But it doesn't work like that.
Puzzles are supposed to just
Slide in and click...
You start to see more of the picture.
He was always pictured with guitar
In hand and black cashmere coat.
The connection between he and I
Was great-- a love for music.
We shared stories of bands in notes
Making sure the teacher didn't see.
It was french so we could always
Answer her with oui if needed.
Then he left me
And everyone else who cared for him...
A puzzle no one can figure out.
Putting a puzzle together
Is easier than piecing
What happened to him together.
His life had no straight edges.
Just corners and funny shaped pieces.
He shaped so many lives,
Why did he take his apart
Before it was done?
Author Kimberley Linstruth-Beckom