A recollection, a poem, a magical trip taken with a lifelong friend when I was not so long in the tooth. I hope that you enjoy this.
at night lost
in the dead quiet
of an unspoiled hollow
a trail missed
yet a riverbed to follow
we watched the Moon
in dead silence for eight hours
set over a finger
of that green lake
called Hope
were we not men
once
and what is left?
a memory?
are we not men
still?
and double backed in silence
the route back
where we had camped
Here am I
the memory stronger
than all of my Youth
long passed
Is that not strength?
am I not still
that man?
are you and I
still not those
two Men lost
in a place once still
with Hope?
the stillness
