Before my gawking eyes.

I’m told. By a friend. That if I lived as long as Methuselah. I’d be lonely. Because all of my dear friends will have passed. But that makes an assumption. That I won’t be cultivating new friends.  Yes, old friends are replaced. Friends keep coming and going.  My first true love. Dear Jeanne. She has passed. Now I have my Italian amore. Dear Cristina. Always. Always. I have opportunities. To fall in love.  Again and again. Imagine. Living 969 years. Watching. Observing. The endless parade of characters. Passing. Before my gawking eyes. --Jim Broede