Dried
shadowed
creekbed
sit old man
you and I
off
the beaten path
sweated brows
in palm
long
twisty
beard
curls
mold
soft thistle thorn seeds gently hold
into the same old man dreams
remembered lost and found subconsciously
I was a child
you were already a man
different times back then
in the same time but at different places
in the same place but at different times
now together among these soft tree drapes
and a moment called the present
you’re loosing your vision soon and I am still trying to find mine
but here we see each other just fine.
