Glimpse

Do you remember the scene we rewound just to laugh so hard we cried?

Do you remember the scrolls, the maps made to fill a still afternoon?

Do you remember your bag? Made from a discarded pant leg

Closed with stitches too wide in a small hand, threaded with ugly green string?

Do you remember the bikes, dirty and worn? Mine had a playing card to hit the spokes, and yours held a crushed water bottle. 

Then I thought those summers would follow their course. 

We’d always be friends, and always find something to do.

Now I’m applying for loans across the country, and I doubt you'd do more than wave if you saw me.

So I’ll remember the bikes, and the bag, and the scrolls. 

The adventures we shared 

Memories I’ll pull out of the box and hold close, 

hoping you’ll sense the embrace though time.

Though I’m sure the little you will feel it.