Threads

we shake hands to take our leave

in a clumsy round-robin

then hurriedly search for keys 

to make our way home 

for teatime as instructed

as we did when children,

we once lived nearby 

adjacent streets, all the same houses

but now different towns

in our own homes,

this year full of 70th birthdays

each of us chalking-off another

just like our schooldays,

but these meetings, these reunions

are special, precious, 

not one of us knowing how many remain,

we have aged and have nothing left to prove

life’s gifts and challenges of no import

our paths have differed 

as has our luck, money, lovers, 

but we have all arrived here

in the twilight to share our stories

*

© Graham R Sherwood 01/22