I returned and there he was, an old friend, welcoming me with a smile.
He took me through paths I had walked before.
Up to places I had already seen;
Places I’ve spent among friends, now grown tall.
I saw the sun set over lands I’ve once called home.
“The geography is the same, but the trees are taller”, he explained to me.
So was I, as I saw my reflection in Glenshea Street.
I was back to the house up in the hill.
And there she was, cheerfully annoucing dinner, just as I remember.
But time brought also new souls to these grounds.
And these shall also grow tall, as another ten years pass by.
With time, the children will no longer play in the pool;
The hidden penguin will abandon his nest;
the fences will grow liquens…
But we have time for one last ride around, don’t we?
And certainly there’s time to chat with those old friends.
There’s time to see what time brought them, too;
and to one more swim at the Waihou River.
and there must be time to enter the void,
and emerge on the other end.
There will be time to walk to the shore
to collect time.