We met in days of graying gold
When dust should rise and dust should fall
And some fair mortal hope scampered bird-like along a road,
Borne on weighted winds no one could hold.
Years later we would find
At every twisting of the path
A certain comradery in the faded kind
Of broken wings too proud for wrath.
And though we had no coin to share
And too long, each, in winter fear expend
With horizon clear and air set upon a prayer
We shall yet know ourselves to be worthy of a friend.
* Footnote: The words are there, the path is set before me–I would not say this is a final piece as yet, but a work in the right direction. I welcome any commentary you may have upon it, for it came plucked unbidden from my thoughts just this morning, and shall yet by evening’s light be honed, I think.
Feels like there is more to this story. I’d love to see it fleshed out.
Could it be some re-occuring reminiscence? Its such a moving outline..
ah, to be worthy of a friend…or even to be called friend…it is a journey of both giving and taking at times…
This is amazing…read it twice 🙂
This certainly feels like it is on the right path…if you decide to expand on it I would
like to read the final even though this is well done…
Very nice. But I agree, I think there’s a lot more to the story that hasn’t been played out yet. I like where you’re going with it, for sure. 🙂
“We met in days of graying gold…”
This sets a visual tone for the piece, and takes one back through time. It reads like a classic piece of poetry written long ago. For me, it completes a circle: meeting in youth, then meeting again years later—
“And too long, each, in winter fear expend”
but still knowing, still feeling that special camaraderie, that friendship felt when first met. This is lovely.
I love the human humility in this, small as we are, fleeting, expendable — “grey gold”, as autumn is, but gold nonetheless.