An Old Friend

A letter

Standing on the highest rock,

Short hair flying in my face.

You come behind me pulling me along

And we walk to discover the mysteries in the field.

 

At eight we met on edge of the road,

Autumn colored leaves falling one by one, in wind.

 I climbed into the passenger’s seat of the moving van,

Driving away from you and my home, I never looked back.

 

At fourteen I sit in the park near my new home.

Small children run and play,

Laughter filling the air, I think,

Will I see you again?

 

Now at twenty-five I walk in the fields of the uncut grass.

I take the steps we once took as children,

My now long hair blowing, in wind.

I will await your arrival

In hope of beginning a new journey together soon.

Author's Note

Based on The River-Merchant's Wife by Ezra Pound. Made as an assignment.