When I retired I used to walk every day. On one such walk I was thinking about someone and thought of a few lines which prompted this prose. When I got home, I wrote those lines in a tablet. A year later I ran across those lines and wrote a few more lines to go with. That was in 2008.

Today I went for a walk; and as I walked I thought of you.

I imagined we were walking down a country road; it was Spring.

Small ponds and pastures dotted the landscape between groves of tall pine trees.

The smell of wild rose drifted lightly on warm breezes.

You walked beside me, smiling, laughing, casting glances

my way. It was as though we were getting to know one another for the first time.

Blue birds mixed their song with your laughter and

butterflies floated gently on the air. I was quiet,

hanging on your every word.

Soon I came to the little wooden bridge where I saw

you for the first time. A brook of clear cold water

trickled underneath. I paused on the bridge and looked

over the edge and saw myself staring back.

The hour is late; the day passes away, fleeting like vapor.

Walking home the air seemed colder, heavier; the sky was

dark. Raindrops danced on the dusty road ahead of me.

Tomorrow or the day after that, we will walk again you and I.

t. turner 2008

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