29 July, 2016


I dreamed that I was back in the city. I saw friends long gone and missed. And in this dream they led me by the hand, under an autumn sky, wandering streets strewn with dry leaves. Together we came to our old haunt, where more friends greeted us; when they saw us coming, smiles lit their faces. They pointed us to seats at the far corner and produced pints of coffee-dark beer. They said, “None of you has changed.” They lamented that joy can’t stay, that friends meet only for a while before having to part again. “There’s hardly time to say hi before it’s ending,” said one. And then I woke and stretched my hands out to them, and there was nothing there at all.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Lacking computer access of any kind, Byron cannot respond to your comments but is relayed them and appreciates your kind remarks.