Reunions

Reunions are strange affairs
“I haven’t seen you for years”
Someone says
Faces swim at you from the crowd
Faces from the past
Meeting old friends
Greyer in colour
Frailer in body
But still recognisable

You swap stories
Exchange remembrances
Grasping for names
In the far reaches
Of a cluttered mind
You pour over old albums
Picking out familiar faces
“His name was Chisholm”
“What was his first name?”
“George?”
“No he played trombone”
“Tom, Tim, no Jim”
You feel pleased with yourself.

At such gatherings
Amongst the sea of faces
There is the one who
Appears as if
From a time capsule
Making you feel older than ever
Then there is the one
Who talks incessantly
About everything
And nothing
The one that causes you to vow
“This is my last reunion”
When next you’re asked
But you always relent

Copyright © Paul Curtis. All Rights Reserved