Together We Gather the Years, Through Seasons and Time

A new branch takes root at the mouth of the alley,

three pairs of faint footprints, half a handful of dirt and sand.

Flecks of light brush past the tips of our ears, settling over white shirts.

We shelter from slanting rain beneath the eaves and count cicada calls by the steps,

tucking candy wrappers into old schoolbooks,

folding the words we never said, layer upon layer.

Later, the wind stretches the trunks and sweeps over the old wall,

someone sinks their feelings deep in their eyes,

someone else turns companionship into a silent farewell.

We gather scattered fragments of the past along the way:

one frame holds an evening of running and laughter,

one a morning spent gazing at each other,

one the moment we turned back, with the trees casting long shadows.

The wind sweeps dust across the alley mouth again.

The old scenes are still warm.

The years we once spent side by side,

without noticing, have become another year gone by.