I was walking down the avenue,

holding an egg in each hand,

helped me create a steady pace,

a rhythm with my swaying arms.

The weight of the egg kept me focused,

just letting my energy flow.

I could have walked with my eyes closed,

the gravelly road below, each step my beacon.

On a day like this there is always that place

reminds us of our silent journey together.

Yet it’s so improbable to imagine the same,

once we feel so extremely isolated and alone.

Then the years go by and all is memory,

except for the truth in time we have lived.

I do remember it well I always will,

when life just seemed a step or two away.

But after all the turmoil of discovery,

the same dream could take it all away.