There comes a time,
when Jack Daniels,
road runs,
watching the dawn
rise over Mt. Tolmie,
being silly
in Hyde Park
and Hurricane Floyd
on a Hyannis beach,
gives weigh
to ibuprofen,
comfy shoes,
and playing fetch
with Frieda
before breakfast,
when what matters
are friends
near and far,
past, present
and future,
Where they are,
what they are doing,
are they happy,
or needing a shoulder,
or just in a box,
on the shelf,
waiting for memories
to catch up.
This morning it fell,
off a shelf,
over my bench,
clattering down,
amongst the plumbing parts,
and last weeks’ coffee cup,
hand-printed and lettered,
made special,
just for me,
and I wondered,
where you were,
how you were doing,
A smile – a hug – a wave
lost in my
mixtape of memories.


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