Meeting an old friend after ages is sometimes like meeting a new person. Someone so new that you prefer their warm, old memory instead…
We hold hands
uninterrupted by life
Talk about a hundred
dreams-
More than a score and
five years ago.
We walk like we own
the trails
that lead to our homes
Say hello to the tiny
folioles
befriended midway.
Then the years add up.
Oceans apart, interrupted
by life
The trails no longer
belong to us.
Our hands are now strangers
Holding them is like
crushing the hundred dreams and more
The folioles have no memory
of us.
So we must settle for
their familiar fragrance
The terrain we fear-not
visiting
from more than a score
and five years ago.
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A Hundred Quills 
So true, meeting someone with whom you sat on a primary school bench, for example… It happened the other day. That guy was upset I couldn’t recall his name. But the joy on his face was palpable.
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Beautifully written Sonia. Some old friends you just start up where you left off, others they move along different paths. Thank you.
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It is sad that some friendships cannot survive the test of time. Those that do, are a constant source of joy. Beautifully rendered, Sonia.
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Lovely Poem, Sonia! 😀
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I love your poem, Sonia, so poignant.
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