The Running Dogs

I’ve watched the run turn into a jog, the jog into a trot, and the trot into a walk. Age has a way of sneaking through your life. Lurking in the shadows, but slowly creeping in nonetheless. We’ve been through alot, you and I. Two apartments, three houses, and two kids later and through that entire time, you’ve been there. What a thing to look back on, the way that life has intertwined us together.

I wonder if we will meet again. In some long forgotten place. A place where time stands still and fields are moved by an ever slight breeze. I think you’d like that place. Maybe when we’re there, more people will come, family and friends fading into existence once their clocks hit zero.

I’ll look for you in that field, where the grass slowly sways, and the sun shines through the clouds.

Wait for me there.