AKASHA - in storage

Old friend, many times, years,

days -

and who knows, lives we spent

wrestling and wrangling

with bodies, minds and souls

wherever we came to and departed from:

planned, allowed or just occurred.

In childhood, it happened that we lived within range,

for birthdays  - where I rudely tipped you into the nettles.

As late adolescents, freely ignorant, 

finding ourselves anew,

attending sewing classes -

to keep us out of mischief

betwixt Commem Balls, cocktails and escapades on horses

from Mansions or Farms, who cares;

planet-wide, no bother

whether Ozzy-land, Samos or Sudan.

So we went, met or parted

here and there - picking up careers or marrying enroute -

kindof random and haphazard

betwixt Steinerish set-ups,

Welsh failed projects 

or Fates angelic plots:

meeting in posh places,

french chateau or retreats,

arguing as we went,

one inclined to dawdle

the other, to rush in -

two odd old gals, for sure,

who never thought of No.

Headstrong heretical,

well-mannered but quixotic:

wildcards, precocious and horribly loyal.

Sobeit.

Once, on a family reunion,

off we went, as were wont

down an inviting track and

we happened upon a clump of 4 leafed clovers.

Next I knew, without further ado

 you’d shoved me in the ditch!

There! For the nettles of ago,

getting karma straight.

 Age overtook us, old friend, 

parted us again:

So what? 

Isn’t that the way of it!

I enmemory you.