Your oldest friends are a living reminder of your mortality. You remember them in their youth and that puts them entropy of aging in a stark and visible contrast. It wasn’t until recently that I saw we were entering the early autumn of our lives. The hair falling from our heads, the way discolored leaves wither and fall from the branches of trees. It is a visible reminder of the approaching inevitable. In time only one of us will be left to remember the other.

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I would like to thank Burning House Press for featuring this piece!

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