As I looked long down the empty gray sidewalk,
my aging eyes could see her gray knit shirt
hugging the sands of her youth
down to her narrowed waist.
Long lines extended down, a mirror of each other,
around her hips and down the outer edges of her jeans.
With grace she walked ahead,
her time not yet fully shaped by the years that will follow
Year after year I have passed this place
and she, or a younger sister,
has always strolled along,
youth never fading,
only flesh and blood –
and mine.
The young never look back
and never should they,
for they are our visions,
out there ahead, the sidewalk
not so empty and gray
as their elders say.
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