how it begins, again

I was not expecting to see you here

my old friend.
I thought perhaps the dog from my childhood,
and my parents, of course,
but you have been gone so long - 
it's not that I stopped thinking of you -
but you had faded some with time and distance -
which are really the same thing.

You are wearing your red shirt - 
it's the one I remember you in 
when I thought of you
after.

I see - this is why you wear it - 
and that's a kindness. 

We are walking in the woods 
here, after the end of the world - 
hands in our pockets -  
as we once did. 
It's fall
and the oaks are turning red 
like your shirt. 

It's good you are here - 
and this 
is how it begins again.