special tribute to the hundred acre wood gang.

Etched

like imprints on the shoreline at low tide
memories
do not fade away
gone but never far from sight
recurring, repeating, remaining…

etched…
the faces…
the joys…
the times…

like clouds that hang in the skies
ever-changing, solitude in groups
occupy our skies…
dissipating, forming, re-forming…

like the thunderstorm that rages with fury
times and events we braved through together
but has to end…

like the imprint of a tattoo
ever-lasting, you are
etched
the lives
the memories
you and I

To the hundred acre wood gang who most likely wont read this site, this is dedicated to you for the times you shared with me and thank you for letting me be part of your lives. live on, live well.