Mountain Ash
I can barely remember who you are anymore,
But your photos still pop up on my feed
And I smile as I ‘like’ them
And remember how we used to be.
.
I can barely remember who you were anymore,
Nevermind who you are.
But I see you talk of never growing too old to dream,
And I know that’s something the "old you" would say.
.
.
I wonder how many skins you have shed;
Has your ex-sheathment left any remains of the
‘you’ I once knew?
What events have shaped your worldview since we last met
– Have we drifted down the same streams, or different?
.
.
.
It would be too strong a statement to say that I miss you;
That implies regret, and I know that worlds must move on.
Now that you are no longer a part of mine, I am content to
observe yours from afar
My obligatory ‘like’ an acknowledgement of our momentary
shared orbit.
.
.
.
.
But when I see the Mountain Ash, I think of you.
Berries ripe for the Plucking,
Though I am not the one who feasts
on your kindnesses anymore.
.