Quick post: an old re-written poem

The years have moved on into delicate wrinkles.
I know this because I’ve aged too.
I’ve grown older somehow, despite my best efforts
and I find myself curious about things I never considered . . .
Like what would have happened if you were caught instead of me?

Have you ever thought about that?

By the time we discovered compassion for each other,
it was too late.
It took catastrophes to wake us up and become aware.
You became you and I became me.
It happened as if a line were drawn between the two of us
and we forgot who once we were to each other.

 Like now . . .
I’m going home, and your just going through processing.
I’m facing backwards on the same train
I’ve ridden for more than two decades,
looking at the sunset over Downtown Manhattan,
and thinking about when we were kids
running through Eisenhower Park in early October.

 Life was fun then

I don’t mind that I’ve grown.
I don’t mind that we’ve grown apart.
After all, a lot has changed since
we ran from people like Officer White
or gathered at the festivals in St. Raphael’s parking lot.

You moved to your side of the world and I moved to mine

But still,
it would be nice if we could all get together . . .

and feel young again

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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