a Looking For Alaska based poem

I walk down a narrow path
hints that it has been used before
a broken branch, a footprint here
to the most secret of all places
the smoking hole now abandoned
the school barn haunted with our memories
the bottles of wine still stay buried
the dorm room you used now shut and empty
all the books that you collected
what you called your life’s library
now cleared out, stacked no more
yard sale to yard sale, they will go
the stale smell of cigarettes lingers
the wax mountain peaks from under
the vanilla lotion and the smell of fresh grass
all the four leafed clovers are dead now
the late nights spent drinking and talking
also playing best day/worst day
the day of the zoo, bears and monkeys
the day your mother died right beside you
we let you slip right through our fingers
one was drunk, the other just let go
the night of the first kiss
and your last words, we will never know