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“Game Called on Account of Darkness” by Peter Viereck 🇺🇸 (5 Aug 1916 – 13 May 2006)
Once there was a friend.
He watched me from the sky.
Maybe he never lived at all.
Maybe too much friendship made him die.
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When the gang played cops and robbers in the alley,
It was my friend who told me which were which.
Now he doesn’t tell me any more.
(Which team am I playing for?)
​
My science teacher built a telescope
To show me every answer in the end.
I stared and stared at every star for hours.
I couldn’t find my friend.
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Every time I stood upon a crossroads,
It made me mad to feel him watch me choose.
I’m glad there’s no more spying while I play.
Still, I’m sad he went away.
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He was like a kind of central-heating
In the big cold house, and that was good.
One by one I have to chop my toys now,
As firewood.