Micky and Me
Time was when we stretched the boundaries,
ran free, Micky and me;
darting in and out of consequence
as all kids do.
I hadn't seen him since that night in
the Red House Pub;
1971 from memory, but memories,
Like boundaries, shrink with time.
For some reason I read the obits today,
(an occasional habit of mine),
and his name, once so joyously familiar,
caught my eye.
It was just a few lines, about a life well led
but taken far too early;
And with each word I tasted the
bittersweet ghost of regret
for all the years never met;
Then carefully set aside the paper
and wondered how long it might be
before Micky and me
were stretching those boundaries again.
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