I Believe I Would

I wonder if I met you and pretended not to know you,
if the same things would attract me to you now as did then.
I did not know then that you would grow more handsome with age
or become a wonderful father or that your young calloused hands
would one day be strong and warm, host to a band of gold, a band of steel.

I wonder what I would notice about you first,
some things about you have changed since we were young.
Would I notice your kind smile or the way you wink if you catch me staring
or the way you drink IPA and eat more salads and you always wear a belt.
Would I see the salt in your pepper hair or the reading glasses in your pocket.

I wonder what you would say to me first,
with no teenage friends or rock concerts to speak about.
Would we talk about buying a Tesla or your dream of living off the grid
or patronizing local business and watching documentaries and Netflix shows.
Would we stay out late talking all night even if we didn't have a curfew.

If we met right now for the first time, would we be the same.
Would my eyes reflect to you something familiar, a part of you
that resides inside of me. Would my soul recognize you as Polaris,
within the crowded sky. Not flashy and attention seeking, but stable and true.
Would I fall in love with you all over again.

I believe I would.

Photo Credit: Lauren Glase Photography