Alone, but not, I crush gravel
under my shoes as nostalgia
rears it's pained countanence.
Birds trill and insects croon
under a hazy sky blocking
the sun's morning burden.

I look at the woods and remember
the past when pain eased its grip.
We enjoy the outdoors,
wandering around for hours
doing nothing of importance.
Or, with poles in hand,
we'd set off to small ponds
after searching for bait
to see what lurks
below the mossy surface.

Winds whisper of hopes
and fears in those days.
They warn peace is fragile.
The bond stretchs thin
over the...