Do you remember who I am?

And you…..will you remember me?

Because sometimes it seems I am already gone.

Lost when he never came back.

And like the wind changing nothing was the same again.

For how much was walking away from that pain?

That I could only take with me.

And yet blistered feet bring relief.

Distraction in blood or puss.

And the road that goes on promises so much,

A thousand illusions, none as real as those we cannot touch.

But old men tire. And Denny can’t cycle anymore.

And bones refuse to play this escaping game.

And somehow you know there is nowhere far enough away.

And for some reason you realise that there is no running fast enough away.