Somewhere along the way
the package I carried has been mislaid.
Since I did not notice it missing until today
its importance has made little impact, I’d say.
The years rolled by day-after-day.
space where the package once stayed
grew dusty with age.
Until the day, where nothing could stop the rage
of loneliness filling page-after-page;
searching for communion with those not my age.
Old connections are no longer stable and sure
as death knocks at too many old friends’ doors.
That space covered in dust reminds me anew
of those friends I mislaid as loneliness grew.
Seeking youth and more life is nothing new.
But, I know this to be true.
Old friends can never be replaced.
Their faces remain. They occupy my space.
Their love for me is my only pride.
Dead or alive they fill every space inside
where memory and love will always abide.
annarino writes 