For Carol, because, once she reads it, she’ll swear it was written for her.
See? I’m always right. Just like Ivanova.
Remembrance
It was a chance meeting,
After ten years,
Four children,
And eight hundred
miles between them
The convergence of
Chance and induction
brought them together
In a flurry of electronica
And passionate remembrance.
Memories in fluid
passed between them,
Alternating currents of
certainty and doubt,
Gravel tossed in a pond
Posing ripples
with every surface struck
Names remembered,
events reviewed,
Who said what to whom
In ever broad
concentric bands of
Year after year.
And still,
one story looks
Nothing like the other,
Except, for now,
Building from this point on
A story in concert,
One stone dropped
to a still,
empty pond.
Adam Byrn Tritt 
TapWitch
October 25, 2008 at 4:01 AM
Oh, you’re not kidding!!!! OK so what if it wasn’t written for me–it still resonates like a perfectly attuned singing bowl! I will forward this on to Ken (who, as I am discovering day by day, is so much like you–just substitute percussion for writing–that I think I finally found my Adam.)
Adam Byrn "Adamus" Tritt
October 25, 2008 at 3:30 PM
My dear Friend, do yourself a favour and give me permission to delete you comment so you can re-write it.No fella will like to see himself compared to another guy, not even favorably. Not even glowingly.Perhaps say: I will forward this on to Ken (who, as I am discovering day by day, is so much like like the kind of man I am looking for–that I think I finally found my guy.)
TapWitch
October 25, 2008 at 6:13 PM
As usual, your editorial critique is right on target, though I won’t delete anything but simply add that yes I have finally found just the kind of man I’m looking for, who has the same qualities which I admire in a good and trusted friend.
Indigo Bunting
October 26, 2008 at 2:21 PM
Congrats, Val, and Adam: great poem.