I thought I’d take a trip to see an old friend,

meet halfway and agree upon the same conclusion

that it had been far too long since we last spent

Time killing time

and the talk of old things between us,

that bound us and which into Middle Age

no longer mattered.

 

The distance between us was never that far

even after nearly three decades apart

and I reminded him of the blow

by blow replication that he did for me

of my then favourite album cover and wondered if he

could do it again despite not working

in that small medium

at large since.

 

Hold on to that moment in which Time

alludes to greatness,

for all the things we got up to as kids,

his admission that he hung around me because

I attracted the girls and I hung

around him

because he was a cool young dude who

could paint and got the music I had floating in my head,

these were sentences passed and lived

with no parole and I was grateful to have

many jailors like him in my life

who never threw away the key.

 

Departing, hand shake offered,

received and blessed,

I counted stations back home

and thrilled Time with renditions

and stories of them all,

my jailors, I remember them all by name.

 

Dedicated to all my jailors.

Ian D. Hall 2015