CXXVII: A face I never realized would grow

Last night at my friend’s wedding feast there was

another who I had not seen in years.

The trope of every wedding,’s what that was,

predicted by the stupidest of seers.

This one was like the ones you could have guessed.

A face that grew, a frame that rose up tall.

I was, just then, a different kind of guest—

attendant at the show where I feel small.

For, with one look, I was not twenty-eight.

She was not twenty-two, as was the truth.

It felt so odd that she was with a date

and not chasing our coats like in our youth.

What happened to those kids who ran those streets?

Have we accomplished any better feats?