It may be in the bob of a
lock or in the sway of a walk
That you see someone who
beckons you in a familiar way.
It may be in the glint of an
earring long out of fashion
Or a way of glancing that
reminds you of a mood
You first encountered ages
ago, when you were not so certain
Of yourself and looked to
your friend for guidance.
There she was, sharing the
quaking of adolescence
With you as though you had
no one else to tally
Your fears. How long has it
been since you saw her?
Now your face has those
creases you’ve earned
By your maturity and those
bobbing locks are stained
Like the ocean’s waves as
they crest upon the beaches
Out here, thousands of miles
from where you first dared
To think that your father
was a fool and she told you
That you were right. And
these faces remind you that time does
Not erase youth. It only
buries it under a ton of memories.
December, 2005
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