Walking wooded paths, I think of you,

far away in time or distant place.

Perhaps a dear friend or

acquaintance reaching out

across the fading years.

How clearly I see you on

that dappled trail.

Each thought a drifting leaf.

each year a bend of path.

 

The kind sun warms my back

and I smile with you.

Each cloud, a chill or tear

that stings an eye.

Did I forget to reach out

across cold time?

Did I neglect to say

those small or precious words

that sooth neglect or hurt.

 

I have been selfish.

Bound up in my own cares.

Senses blunted by flying seconds,

forgetful of precious moments –

shared in sunny days gone by.

Here is my hand; the words I write.

Here is my heart that beats slowly.

Each pulse a pause in shared time,

even if not in shared space.

 

Come walk again with me.

The rain will fade to mist.

The sun will warm the hand,

that once you held.

We will brave the years,

they are but the passing of time

which ticks on for ever.

Come smile with me, my friends.

 
 

David Garlick, Sidney, August, 2009