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.