On Bay and George,

shaking hands with the glee

of a Bicester childhood

remembered

in an Ontario street,

pennies against the rails,

bent out of shape

on tracks

and over several cups

of coffee, no tea for me

as I found it doesn’t travel well,

we reminisced in a place

of reminisce,

of memory and forgotten times…

except you applauded my memory

of those lost in the ether

and the sadness I felt

for them all.

The past was always a friend,