In the early morning
when people are few and I have time
I walk along the beach to the stream
and then follow its bank as ducks quack
not far and I meet an old friend who I know
will be there.
We hug and our beings merge
My skin is hardened by age but my friend
is much older than eye and his skin much rougher
the rough becomes smooth as we touch and hold each other
just saying hello
We meditate, how long for, who knows and in our silence my friend
takes me to treasured places of my youth.
When we return I, as is my way, talk and my friend listens with interest.
This morning he asked why I was sad
I explained soon I must move far away and could not visit so often.
My friend said he will always be there for me and I could visit
as I am this morning or in a wave of energy or in a dream.
he would be waiting.
We held each other tight and I quickly turned and
walked away across the grass so my friend would not see my tears.
Oh did I not say my friend is a tree.
I have never written anything like this before let alone shared it with someone.
It just came out I hope its not daft.