It was twilight when we sat down to talk about the fight
Two friends now less certain about what’s wrong, what’s right

The blood had dried, his cheek was an ugly blue
He held his cup up to warm it, 
It was my doing, I had much to rue

He sipped, I slurped, my guilt made the noise
Although he was hurt, he showed better poise

Now what, I thought, what will be the price?
A friend lost because he raised his voice?

I hadn’t liked what he said, so what?
It was just molecule striking molecule in the air
And a thought sent in through my ear

I could have saved it in my mind, or thrown it away for good
What cause had I to bash him like a hood?

What was weaker, his tongue or my mind?
I thought all this as I looked behind

I hoped things would again be the way they were
But when the tea boy came, 
He got up, paid for two, and touched my shoulder

“Goodbye,” he said, in a voice less sad than firm
And he was gone, my brother, my chum

He never said I was wrong, I just knew I wasn’t right
And the sound of his retreating footsteps shone a new light:

It was just molecule striking molecule in the air
I don’t know where he is now, but I wish he were here

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