Will you walk with me? Maybe if you will then I can.
And where will we go?
Perhaps we might explore.
Or perhaps just walk this lane.
This road.
This street.
Are you going with me?
Maybe we will talk.
Or barely touching hands just listen to footsteps.
The water.
The crops cracking in the sun.
Here we might pass the skew bridge.
The house where the old man used to wave.
Do you remember? When we first came here?
Maybe you don’t.
If not, I can remind you.
Here a stream or brook.
Now a spring undermining the road surface.
But will you walk with me?
Maybe you cannot.
Then I will push you in a chair.
We will look together.
See together.
Be together.
Be.
We.
Us.
Our.
Ours.
But you are there. And I am here.
So today I summon only Ghosts.
Will you walk with me?
“Yes” they say.
“We will walk with you”.
I hear their chat.
Their laughs.
Their stories.
Again.
The gentle accents.
The ones that will never change.
And all is well again.
And here I am.
And there you are.
You see, I got here. I wasn’t alone you know.
You will walk with me?
Of course.
The more you will and the more I can.
So forever then.
Walk with me.
That is a sweet poem. Sentimental. Affirming. I like this very much. A fine walk, indeed.