Friends Reunited.
Kirsten Krone-Wilson
You will be old now; sitting in an armchair or a conservatory; reading a book, perhaps. Maybe you grow flowers or do crosswords. I would not recognise you, on principle. On the principles we used to have.
We were determined and certain. We scowled at time and knew that time did not change truth. We knew it applied to old as well as young. We did not grow flowers and do crosswords.
Your eyes may now be patient. Not like they were when they defied me to agree. Your tone may be tolerant. Not like the eloquence which exposed the outrages we hated.
I would not know you if you drank tea and watched television and listened to the news and saw both sides. Inside my head where my hair is brown and my life is still a heady opportunity, you know all the answers. You have never doubted and do not allow me to.
Your skin may not be clear. Your arms may not be padded with muscles. My heart may not quicken to feel your heat.
You are not old. In my mind you do not change.
I do not need to meet you now.