The path unfollowed follows my mind,
The path unfollowed mocks me blind,
And entrenches deeply in my wound,
Now in the path of the wild I must swoon,
To reclaim my sight.

This stage, my heart,
Greets entering friends
As shades,
Not shadows,
Of their younger selves.
Despite disappointments
And promises,
Firsts and lasts,
Skins and sins,
Joys and sorrows
And bags and sags...
I still see YOU,
My first, longest and oldest.
The ever ones,
Bob and John.

Feelings can't be replicated
they are specific- moments created
each bears its particularity and nuance
every encounter is marked by difference-

(say) a man is attracted to a woman
the first sight induces a wild passion
when they fail in love at a later date
that rush of affection might have disappeared:

of such human nature is made:
there's no known way of escape.