It’s stunning how seasons change, memories mean more and some less.
And the different looks that flit past your face, and the gaze in your eyes the simple question “So, what’s up,” elicitates.
The altering of the intensity of the goosebumps on our arms as we pass through the same streets,
This music that is stuck in my head now, that I can’t stand on the radio after the sixty-fourth replay.
This hand in mine at this moment, that is soon to be replaced.