Ode to Smith

You are the reason seasons of my life move sans treason. Had we not met; if you had not met me, and shared knowledge of God and the Bible, week-in, week-out for aeon, would make a different story. Wouldn’t have replicated the knowledge. Talk about you always, every time, when I mentor some Christian brothers and sisters. Some know you. Haven’t met you. It delights me daily when I remember the time we shared, the stories we shared, the moments we shared, the friends we shared, and the vision we shared. You have made me what I am in Christ. Your positive influence is written in blood. Didn’t know. Know now. You are not given to frills. You like substance. Look at me now. Exact replica of Smith. Take a deep look, Smith. Can you see me now? You cannot? Remove your glasses. Oh sorry. Remember you are photophobic. Clean your glasses. You will se me now. My ready smile. My calm exterior. Smile more. You whispered. How can I forget? How can I forget you? How can I forget our times together? How? Why? It is just not possible, Smith.

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