He went handsomely well with quiet times,
Shepherd’s pie on Saturday nights,
The little theater down the street.
Our conversations ranged widely.
They dug deep—
And much remains unsaid.
He was fond of bicycles
And PBR in a dark downtown bar.
I tried to include them
So I could include more of him.
I adjusted my time to his.
How could I be but crazy impressed,
Head over heels,
As his subtle magic rekindled something inside me,
Something long dormant, almost forgotten.
He was the younger man, and
Now, on this day, a year wiser.
And I thank him that I am younger still.