poem

 Imaginary Friend

When I was a boy I had an imaginary friend.

Mom was worried until someone told her

It meant I might be gifted.

His name was Nee Nee and of course

Everyone got a kick out of that.

Looking back I shouldn’t have told anyone his name

But I never meant to.

An adult overheard me whispering it out loud

While I was playing under the table. 

Who’s Nee Nee? She asked.  My friend, I said.

He was my very first friend, I guess,

And that one’s always real.

But other than his name I don’t remember anything else about him—

What we did, how we played, why I even liked him.

I sometimes wonder what became of him.

I’d try to track him down if I could

But I can’t for the life of me recall what he even looked like.

If he was a talking animal I suppose 

It was just his job, to go around from lonely boy to lonely boy

And he’s probably out there helping someone now.

If he was a mythical winged beast, albeit friendly and down to earth, 

Conjured from the ramparts of my inner sanctum

He’s probably dead by now, since I never fed him 

And everyone else would be afraid of him.

If he was a boy, like me, I imagine 

He went back to his life, grew up, got married,

Had a few kids and now sits around wondering

Whatever happened to his old pal

Jeff 

8/19/25