My thoughts return to one real childhood friend
and wonder where life’s road has taken her.
I tried to keep in touch, from time to time,
but she was not a writer; frequent moves
unraveled every cord we had attached.
I know she is not far from her home base,
while I am many hundred miles away.
My fading memory does not recall
her married name. Her brothers all have moved;
her sister’s married name is also gone.
No family remains to offer clue.
All I have left is memories of times
I stayed with her throughout the lightning storms
she feared, that fascinated me so much.
We were the “Mutt and Jeff” of our school crowd,
she short and fair, I the tall, gawky one,
and for a time, we knew a special bond
that even silent years cannot deny.
Jean, at 82, has been writing poems since she was 18. For 25 years she published a popular poetry quarterly of up to 100 pages, with a subscribership of nearly 500. Illness in 1986 ended the magazine. She currently publishes, by email, a 2-page monthly of clean humor. Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org