Old Soul

Carey “Butch” Hughes

float on past me
on dark river rafts
over the fish we caught
and renamed and threw back.
we found traces of whiskey
and wing sauce in your blood.
now swing over, man,
to the side we don’t see,
away from the world so familiar,
toward the dreams we’ve had since
your heart passed away.
we’ll beg again that you
pull yourself back
to our level – back to us –
so that we can laugh again
as you smile large.
but you carry on old soul.
for all we know to do
now that you’re gone
is just to carey on.