Monday, November 28, 2011

Buddy


Absent friends walk with me to the lake’s edge 
as we hold onto the air singing to ourselves.
We glide over loose rocks
finding paths we made in secret so long ago.
I close my eyes and feel for finger branches that comb through my hair.
I remember the friends who followed me here 
like dragonflies casting shadows and flighty silhouettes. 
When we had all weekend to play
when we were children.
When we could shake off anything.

{a.currie}

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