Here’s a recently-written companion piece to the poem featured in my previous post.
DEAR JOHN
What if you hadn’t died at twenty-one
might we be sharing a park bench today?
Two friends, grown old, perched there to take the sun,
much changed, a shade deranged perhaps, gone grey,
with wrinkles where our teenage spots once spread,
our youth replaced by age but neither dead.
Had you survived, might we have grown apart
as anguish, pleasure, parenthood and pain
reshaped us, each one like a work of art
that neither could interpret or explain?
These are the questions that assail me still
as I grow old but know you never will.
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