~
the Morai, those beauteous
fates have woven me
another morning with these
special friends,
a country walk, a drinking lake
back in the days we
were but schoolboys,
I watch them weave
ahead of me, moving
seamlessly between one
another, like the water,
first in twos, now threes
back to twos but never alone,
arms often drape shoulders
as head move close
as if in faux conspiracy
hands gently slap a back
or two as if in jest or
conferring payment for
finding treasured memories
misplaced by the other,
at lunch, strangely we each
order the same, like the
free school meals
we all once quickly scoffed
before the bell rang out
*
GRS 5/24
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