As children
we played games
with balls, bats and teammates.

But when we were alone,
we played games
with words.

I’d never guess
the ones you’d choose for me
but you always guessed mine
no matter how difficult
I made them for you.

Then your father changed jobs
your family moved away
and I was left
to play by myself
with only my pencil and paper
to draw and write and play.

The next time I heard of you
I read your obituary.

You left a well-educated wife,
a nine year old daughter,
and a promising career
dangling
at the end of a noose
tied around
a Spanish Colonial high rise
house beam.

I wish we had stayed in touch.

I know I could
eventually have guessed
the word,
the words,
you needed to hear
before you played
the real
Hangman
all by yourself…