I was thinking about people I knew
When I was young
And how beautiful they were.
Me too.
I still see some of them
Occasionally, like
My first husband, once blond and wistful
Almost aristocratic in a poetic way
Now stooped and sick
With trembling hands.
We are so many decades removed, he and I
With little to say to one another
Even though once
We couldn’t stop talking.
