the years have piled up between us, dear friend
and the last time i saw you it was a cold day and snow was falling. i am not good at goodbyes and i was weeping, blotchy and ugly. and you smiled at me, dear friend. i wonder how we wind and wander so far from each other and i wonder how we come together again, like branches of a river like branches of a tree meandering limbs of a single whole. where do i begin and you end, dear friend? and i don’t deserve your kindness or your questions or your letters or your interest or the fondness in your eyes i have walked in many shadows and i have lived many lives and the person that you knew then (that i was) i’m not sure they survived. the memories grow dusty in the attic of my mind and i think upon them often, and then sometimes, and then not but today the snow was falling and i opened up your letter and you asked, “have you forgotten me?” oh, dear friend - i have not.
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