He and I went back to his old dam,
where he often swam as a lad.
Seeing it crumbling, eroded away,
left him pensive, reflectively sad.
He said "See the high, low water marks
clearly etched on the battered old wall.
With life's flotsam, jetsam pounding away,
my old dam seems ready to fall.
Guarding life's waters, nigh eighty years,
it has lasted as long as I.
Scars from those years are clearly in view,
I'm telling you this, with a sigh.
I feel a closeness with that old dam,
can see a reflection of me.
Seeing it slowly decaying away,
I am filled with deep empathy.
Life, like the waters keep flowing on,
e'er hampered by time through the years.
Now, in my twilight, I 'm thinking on this-
Pardon me, while I'm wiping these tears."
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Author Notes
My old friend let the dam become a metaphor for him and his
feelings.Sadly, that was his last trip, because he passed on soon
afterward.
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