Reflecting Back

I stopped writing completely.

I lost the imaginary version of you reading what I wrote.

I was not reborn. I just changed directions.

But you are still here.

Figuratively and literally.

So I started down new paths with strange names and exotic smells.

I went to the Caribbean to find a strand of my history.

I jumped into the winning circle where perfect smiles glittered like the medals that were strewn on their necks.

I elbowed the muscled jocks and forced my way in and then forced my way out.

But I couldn’t write.

None of the stories would stick.

They slip away like trivialities caught between the sheets and made up into a nice bed.

Yet it you that is here, now, reading.

You have come from afar, memories of previous lives I lived within your embrace.

You walk with me though you may barely remember our conversations anymore.

Your friendship has given me strength, courage and faith.

I am humbled.

Thank you.