A Meeting


In a dream I meet
My dead friend. He has,
I know, gone long and far,
And yet he is the same
For the dead are changeless.
They grow no older.
It is I who have changed,
Grown strange to what I was.
Yet I, the changed one,
Ask: “How you been?”
He grins and looks at me.
“I been eating peaches
Off some mighty fine trees.”


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A Meeting