The Following

The things that stay as memories
Do not at first make themselves known.
Momentous moments wane and fade
While seeming trifles haunt our hours.
Ghosts coming down the attic stairs.

Oh, you again. Oh, you again.

The day that I set out for school,
He washed the car, topped off the tank,
Tucked cash into my duffel bag,
Asked help with a few final chores,
Made jokes, but mostly kept his peace.

The restlessness of pride and grief.

We shook hands and I drove away.
I watched him in the rearview mirror.
He walked behind me down the road.
There was no keeping up, of course.
But he stayed with me while he could.

I watch him follow every day.

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