Letter // Hour 4 Half-Marathon


Smiles emerge when I think of you standing there: 
tall, kind, soft-spoken - the first gentleman I've known. 
We waited for car rides and balanced books that bright afternoon. 
Your wit and insight shone through and broke your shyness.
13 at the time, little did we realize a final goodbye would 
come not even ten years later. 
13 at the time, our dreams were all possible.
Our world was still hopeful, open to all we'd do, 
ready for our shaping hands and youthful souls. 

You studied at Cornell, you were changing the world already. 
A car accident off a bridge ended your contributions. 
We had seen each other only briefly at a college party. 
You remained among the finest gentlemen I'd know. 
You still are, crystallized in my mind's eye these decades past. 

We've all grown older: wrinkles, addictions, children who gave us grandchildren.
You should be with us. Fatigue is here, yes, but life is still worth the struggles. 
Others from our class died, too. I imagine you there on a bright afternoon, welcoming them 
A haunting, silent summer has closed in; we look to our past. 

I think of you and your promise. Our tired world grow brighter in those moments. 
I remember you.

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