image by Peter Pruzina from Pixabay
They return here often.
As if it is always here;
as if it hadn't travelled
miles
in the space in between;
as if they hadn't
travelled miles
in the space in between.
And it is the same.
Always seems the same,
not some sad facsimile.
They age, of course,
but relationships remain
distinct.
Old and new cross rooms
like politicians wavering,
but the prize is still the
same.
Always different.
Tony Noon
