I stay to the edge, avoiding the slippery, packed track down the middle. It is well traveled on this snowy day, the “main drag” in the middle of nowhere. Walking salves frayed nerves, gathers scattered thoughts, slows the passing shadows. You struggled mightily, slowly vanishing, leaving tracks behind to be noticed, and marked. Notes should be sent, words selected to condense a life on a single page. I wish I had known you better, had stretched harder to bridge distance and time. Now I dream of you and me, young, blonde and happy.
Categories: Poetry