It isn’t casual,
Though uncalculated words cloak
Our naked forms underneath;
And prickled flesh of repose
Delivers anticipation’s nectar
Nonetheless.

Thousands of uncharted miles
Mark the chasm of years between,
And unintentioned circumstance.
Life separating us from living,
The boundaries of birth and death
And all that transpires throughout.
Where were you 27 years ago
At the launching of my maiden voyage?

You were but a spark in the dust
Of another dreamer’s initiation.
And I missed you then.
And you missed me.
And I don’t know if the bridge
Can be completed,
Antagonistic antipathy of
Destiny gone awry.

Though we laugh and exchange
The surprising gifts of conversation
It isn’t casual at all.

11/03/2007

Author's Note: Barbara's suggestion taken. :-)

Posted on 11/03/2007
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie