An old friend

I remember a friend of mine
who used to be close to my eyes
always in a turmoil of rage and courage
in between the line of love and hate
he had a guile that spoke long tales
stories of freedom, race, color and pale
a bit of his life was gloomy at night
wondering of thoughts why ain't i right?
a bit of his reality was hard to sigh
kissing the corners unseen in day
his ideas were great, but his words did stray
in contempt of his failure, he made winning a way
to reach avenues withheld from his gaze
then he was bubble of innocence
trickled by fate and set up straight,
too fast for a race and too slow for a stroll
but he remained in my books of brain for long
along with his grit, guts and game
sailing with a glare only a good friend can play!