Friendship was almost a decade old
before we shared our dreams.
By then we had shared a house
tents, music, books and prejudices.
Chance broke the seal – an uncensored remark.
A ten day walk around an island
south of the world’s southernmost city.
A winter’s trip in the summer of our lives
expected beauty
and unexpected closeness – the perihelion of our friendship.
Conceived as distraction from careers
an opportunity to add to memory
what been a forgotten part of our country
before guidebooks and adventure tourists
turned wilderness into compulsion.
On the last day the circle is complete
a return to the starting point
finishing along a wind ruffled road
city reticence not yet reclaimed.
A sigh about returning to work
“ it means nothing to me.”
He is surprised. Me too – my employer highly regarded.
A pause
and “ you have someone to return to.”
It was his dream he said to have someone
to live in a loving partnership.
Unexpectedly he asked about mine.
to be a writer I confide.
When our dreams were visible
the comet of friendship had circled the sun.
Memory could plot its path
the eye could never find it.
Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry 