daniel

i saw him walking again,
under a gray sky with that battered briefcase
in one hand.
does he even remember a time
when i was seven,
he, a year younger
and our imaginations took us to a land
far away from the schoolyard.

back then i think
that serious expression was
still on his face.

he switched school a year later
i recall,
and the next time i saw him
we were attending different high schools
but he still looked like the same boy
from my memories.

now each time i see him,
my hands curl into fists at my sides,
resisting the urge to push blond hair
away from eyes that were a shade of
blue i can’t remember,
should it bother me this much?

a/n: because i don't remember it either.