Who is this man who looks at me with age in his eye?
The years have drawn lines upon his face.
Time has moved through him, but day by day he has not seen it.
Where did he come from?
He has walked from one life to another, each regeneration created by the choices of the predecessor.
When did this man become my own reflection.I look upon myself and wonder.
What will he think?
When he looks into a mirror, searching for himself, only to find the face, of an old man.

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You will miss this.
This stillness that drove you mad.
This time of quiet and comfort.
This place that you are seen.
This space that you occupy.
You will remember all the good.
When laughter filled your heart.
When love was all around.
When the moment was here and now.
When the world was everyone you know.
You are not me and I am not you.
But when I am, I will know what to do…
I will have seen what you have seen.
I will have been where you have been.
I will have become.
I will return.
I will be lost once again.
I will remember.
Now the world is all who you don’t know.
And the trees you remember.

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The grey of English sky.
The downpour that never ends.
The cold winter days.
The wet night lights.
They complain of miserable weather.
But I will always miss the rain.