two old men

he never reached
the age
where you both planned
to be
in central park,
on a bench
reciting verse,
remembering remembering
everything
that still seemed so
fresh
and new. him with his
beret,
tilted sideways,
strumming
his old guitar,
you breaking bread
for the ducks
before walking to the lake
to feed them.
so now you go alone,
and pretend.
you and him. two
old men.