An angst-ridden poem by Tanis to Flint

This poem was written by C.T.Pierson
Foreword:
Well, I was bored last night, and in kind of a funky mode, so I wound up writing a poem Tanis might have written some time after the Battle of Palanthas and the birth of Gilthas. I tried to make it in the style of "Kitiara, of All The Days". Hope everyone likes it.

For Flint, by Tanis Half-Elven

Sometimes in the moonless watches of the night
When my dear Laurana is not in my arms
And this keep lies cold and heavy with mem'ry
I hear a certain creaking, a sound both faint
And weary, and my mind travels in the dark
To my youth, and happier days, when you lived still,
My dear old friend.

And as I think of this, I
Recall fire at my back, cool ale at my lips,
The touch of your gnarled hand upon my shoulder,
The lure of the road that brought us together,
And, far too soon, tore us apart.

I can see
The gleam of sunlight on Sturm's armor, the cold
Glare of Raistlin's gaze. I hear Caramon's laugh,
And Tas's many questions. And even Kit,
Who should be furthest from my thoughts, lingers still.

Carefree were the days, my friend, before the war,
When dragons and gods made Krynn their battlefield.
Many were the evenings when we would sit and
Talk, no heavy matters, but of the market,
Old children's tales, and Otik's spiced potatoes.

And though, in these past years, I have saved a world,
Found true love, lost and regained my soul, sometimes
I vow I would trade it all -- or almost all --
To walk the dusty summer roads by your side.

I cannot pass that certain tree, where our great
Adventure first began, without the cold ache
Of grief in my gut. I cannot help but rail
Against the gods, I cannot help but ask them:
Why? Why, of we seven, who shared merry times
In our youth, do four now lie apart from joy,
From love, from fear, from pain?

Surely Sturm, who saw
Light in the darkest shroud of night, deserved more.
You walked with him on the ramparts that morning.
You saw his eyes grow clear, you understood him
Better than I ever shall. I was not there.

And Raistlin. Yes, I hear you snort, my old friend,
But times were not always so cruel between us.
There were days I was proud to call him friend, when
He was not killing his brother by inches.
Even when he was at his nadir, I would
Never wish on him the fate he met.

The same
I would say of Kitiara. I know now
She did not care for me, nor for anyone
Save for herself. But still her dark eyes haunt me,
Her crooked smile defiles my sweetest dreams,
And sometimes I would give up my life and love
To spirit her soul from the dark knight's embrace.

But of all the dear ones I have lost these years,
Of Sturm and Raistlin, of Kit and Gilthanas,
Your loss still brings the sweetest sting, my old friend.
For though I tried to explain to Tas, that day
When you closed your eyes -- though I told him about
Stars and twilight, and how autumn leaves must fall,
I could not make myself understand.

For though
My life moves on, my infant son lies dreaming
In his cradle, my thoughts still find you, old friend.
And though you would scowl to hear me tell of it,
And stomp and scoff, I cannot hide this plain truth:
I still need you, grumbling old dwarf.

Now, I lie,
Sleepless in the moonless watches of the night,
With my dear Laurana so far from my arms
And this keep rests cold and heavy with mem'ry.
I hear a certain creaking, a sound both faint
And weary: the scraping of a knife on wood.