finding lost time
an old friend comes by to visit,
a roommate we haven't see for over 50 years,
and Proust comes with him,
from Jeff we received an extraordinary dog, Eli,
a member of the family we and our children loved for years,
we call up names, people, experiences
that let us find again who we were,
the present, tomorrow, the past
can slap us into waking up,
not just to smell the roses
but also to feel the thorns,
we look back in search of lost time,
who we are now is also who we were then,
it is hard to stitch together
the rush of the present,
the upcoming drop into the unknown,
and the calls of the past,
how much better life is when we're not alone
and we find what can be lost.
by Henry H. Walker
December 16, ‘24
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