God speed, you cranky old bastard. Don't let those winged jerks push you around.
Claw,
fiercely, and hug boldly, the last wisp of a friend as they pass.
Wrestle the scent of their spirit, the pressure of their discontent, the
grey from their head,
lest nostalgia steal it all,
and swap them with a
smiling doppelganger.