In late October of this year, someone I knew from my college years 20 years ago came back into my life, briefly. Here's a poem I wrote for her last October:
The kid in her, at 46
Still smoking "wet"
Still screaming at the stars, coating the walls
with quotes from Ted Hughes
Bemoaning lost love and the god
she'd never given up
There was a walk we never took
A swim we never had
We never got wet, despite my wanting
And now we are not kids, I am so glad.