It seems it was only yesterday
you clung to my back as we rode
down the frozen hill of the golf course
on my Flexible Flyer metal runner sled.
Our hands bumped together
when our bodies were begging us
to intertwine our fingers with each other.
Later, we sang: Holding hands in a movie show
when all the lights are low may not be new,
but I like it how about you?
Down the road, only one of us remains—
as old bones get parked in a nursing home.
Who will hold that hand now?