Mate

you could call it an

accidental rendezvous,

me visiting old haunts, him

on his daily dog walk, it

could almost have been fixed

but after sixty years or so,

there we both were, cautiously

offering curious feint smiles,

we stood there, face to face

looking, studying each other’s

wrinkles, creases, lines, as if

searching for clues, wondering

when, why, where were these

ghostly features etched and all

our youthful colours stolen,

leaving only tarnished silver

and age-worthy grey, eventually

I managed to utter his name,

‘well bugger me’, his only reply

Published by grahamrsherwood