I could still see your eyes

as I searched through lost decades

in which Time was a peculiar beast;

beautiful as all forty somethings are

when they allow memories to flow,

sincere when they are told

of loved ones who declined

to make it this point,

charming with upturned smile

as Time for a brief while

allows the mystery to unfold

like a rose blooming in the twilight,

the sparkle of energy and questions

and revealing answers never once

thought of during a previous time

as school recollections,

of grazed knees on stone hard, grit filled

playgrounds allowed our screams

and delights to be carried

over thirty-five years

to this, a day in the Liverpool sun

with a friend, the reconnection of Time,

in which I could still see your eyes.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016