A passerby

It’s odd, you were right here. I look at this photo and witness you. Skin and bones. And now I’m left with the knowledge of your departure. Gone to dust, leaves, and trees. An omnipresent reminder that all we have is this moment. The ground underneath our feet. The air in our lungs. The fleeting seconds. The moment. With every passing second, we defiantly live on. Tempting fate to tell us otherwise. There you are, frozen in time. I wish time could be rewound. I wish I could sense you as I did in that picture. To pinch you, even. I could search every vessel and valley on this earth and still not find you. It’s odd. You were just here. Just then.