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When we met I liked you. We taled, we joked, we hung out, never one on one but in a circle of friends. Then your house caught fire and burned down and I did nothing. I never told you how sorry I was, I never asked if you needed anything. I did nothing.



The fire caused you to fall on hard times and in desperation you took to embezzling. You got caught and your face was splashed all over the newspapers and TV. I never told you that I understood, that if any one of us had lost everything in a fire any one of us might have done the same thing. I never told you that I didn't hold it against you, that I'd be there if you needed me. I did nothing.



Then when you were facing prison, I never told you that I'd take your calls, I'd write you and that you'd always have a friend in me. I'd visit if you want to be visited. I never told you that you'd get through this, that it's not the end of the world. That there are such things as second chances. I did nothing.



And then the terrible news came that you failed to appear in court for your sentencing and that you had been found dead in your home of an overdose. Now there is nothing I can do.



Would anything I could have said or done made any difference? I don't know and now I never will.