Catching up 

Was that you I saw?
I almost didn’t recognize you.
Something about your aura.
Something in your voice.
The weather taking its dues?
The setting sun pulling your bones?
Time shifting the frequencies?
Maybe the cost of the distance
is greater than I thought.
Maybe the grease has dried
thick and cloudy on the lens.
Yeah, it’s not all that cold,
but only in comparison.
Yeah, I see you now,
too many miles between
and thirty years too late.
But I see you nonetheless.

About today’s poem:
Today’s entry is based on the brief but welcome chat I had with my mother this morning. I’m always amazed how, with family, it’s like time only changes the canvas we’re painting on and never the picture being painted, as if all the time together lost becomes irrelevant now that we can catch up, no matter how short the conversation.



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