Two young women share their memories of their poet friend, Harrison.

I can still see his tall frame in the moonlight.
I can see his smile in the shade of the trees.
I can feel his embrace, his kindness.

He is one of a kind. He is a deep thinker. He likes to listen.
His laugh. Oh, his laugh lights up a room.
He is a poet. He is so young.

He is gone.
And no one knows why.
No one understands.
We all cry.

And as I lay in the dirt, discussing Harrison,
I look up at the sky. Say his name.
Harrison.
And a star shoots across the sky.
Red, bright, fierce, and present.
The tears roll down my face, as I clutch the hand of the person beside me.

Because he is gone. In the physical sense.
But he is very much alive, in the hearts of those left behind to wonder.
He is in the trees. He is in the summer wind. He is in the stars.

He is where you need him to be.
He is in your heart.

Written by Taryn Gawronski