i sit with you

i sit with you, as
we have sat together many times before, fingers
laced together, counting
the seconds passing by, and our years
flashing by, with griefs, with joys, with playful days,
fun and games and unsuppressed laughter, with tearful nights,
arms wrapped around shaking shoulders.

your eyes grieve,
thinking about the fading days,
and the dwindling chances to explore this life, this world,
this world and its wonders, its characters,
its stories hidden in words unspoken,
in lives risen and fallen and experiences thereafter forgotten,
mourning what we have yet to see,
places high and low, near and far
– the deepest reaches of the universe,
the truth in our unhealed scars –
adventures in which we’ve been
loyal companions, day after day after day, in our youth
and in our old age.

then our explorations end, our last moments
lived and shared; in these trees
under which we sat, in this hill
where we grew old together, in the sun
shining on the grass, and the dirt
underneath our feet, and the dust
blowing in the wind, live evenings and talks
never-ending,
a shadow of our hands, fingers
laced together, and the gleam
in our eyes in each other’s.