The first frost came late this year.
I walk the dog in the still morning air.
The leaves by the thousands silently detach
And drift down gliding not tumbling.
I have the white-haired image of my good friend
Not seen in forty years. I see the same posture
From his youth and know he has remained true.
My heart warms to hear the same chuckle in his voice.
Such happiness to find what was thought lost forever.
Such sadness for the life long separation
Each wrestling our individual demons.
Before and after connecting our two lives
Like two books that did not inform each other
Placed together now between the same bookends.
