My old friend

My old friend

I pass him in the street.
At least, I think it’s him.
Or is it..?
I turn, only to find
he’s disappeared into the crowd.
Sudden stab of regret.
Not seen him in years.
We were close for a time
but his job took him
to another part of the country.
Somehow, after a while
we lost contact.
Perhaps he’s revisiting old haunts,
maybe even thinking of me.
Or perhaps it’s someone else entirely.
I’ll never know because
the moment’s passed.
He’s passed.
He’s the past.

5 thoughts on “My old friend

  1. Sarah Lewis

    Happy New Year! Very poignant. I wonder if you need the very last line? To me, it seems to end naturally at ‘He’s passed’.
    Well done in getting 2016 off to a flying start with your poetry!

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