Time was when we stretched the boundaries,
ran free, Micky and me;
darting in and out of consequence
as all kids do.
Years melted and I didn't see him again
until that night in the Red House pub;
1998 from memory; although memories,
like boundaries, shrink with time.
He smiled, went through the motions,
then introduced me to Carol, his fiancee;
and I remember how, when he went
to the bar, she and I shared a look that said,
you knew him first, but I know him now.
Came closing time and we kissed; it was no
more than a peck on the cheek, though the
moment seemed to stretch to infinity and back;
then he was gone, taking with him
the promise of ten thousand tomorrows.
For some reason I read the obits today,
(an admittedly peculiar, but occasional
habit of mine), and Mickey's name, once
so joyously familiar, caught my eye.
It was just a few lines, about a life well led
but taken far too early; And with each word
I tasted the bittersweet ghost of regret
for all the years never met.
Carefully then, I set the paper aside,
wandered listless into the kitchen.
Made tea, cried a little; wondering
how long it might be before Micky and me
were stretching those boundaries again.