Time moves on without you.

They seem like strangers to me now, those people who've kept far more than six feet yet lay claim to be friends. I walked past without a glance, much to their annoyance as if belonging I seem to them.

What manner of folk thinks when they've not spoke, no utterance of words after mine, when times have been so strange, knowing they've left me adrift I would welcome them as if nothing has changed? I saw value in them, their worth to me great. Perhaps too much I gave credit where in due course misplaced. I don't know who they are but in time, with distance, I have at least learned I'm easily replaced. From doors shut where I left ajar, the light is fading away, another hinge shifts into view the chance to make friends again. One glance, one chance, more interest was shown than all the years I knew them. Slow and steady become my pace where once rushed, in haste, I was lost in every race. I can wait as long as it takes for in catching up with myself I know I shall be met with the worth I see behind their face. It may not be this time or the next, or it might. In shifting perspective I now feel what I knew was alright. He reminds me of them, darker in colour but very much friendlier, and disclosing at first sight. Not a distraction, I've faced the grave and alone moved on, not onto another but resolving my baggage I will not drag or heap onto the other, I am free to explore with caution this time but in hiding no more.