When I met the man he stood about 5'11" but was much younger.
Down a darkened hall he stared back from inside a mirror.
All words written and spoken in Gaelic here. A small, lost town on the edge of a forgotten, pinprick of a place.
No one home.
Whole place to myself. With eggs! And milk! Bread and freshly churned butter!
And as darkness crept in and then turned into oblivion I woke up and walked down an empty-house hall. Floors answered back with every covert and careful step.
Except for maybe my pretenses.
There he was, too.
Except for his pretenses.
Staring back down over eighteen years or so of darkened hallways.
We startled each other. Because no one was supposed to be home. But there we were ... facing off. Stuck in night's glue.
I discovered you down a hallway.
In a mirror over a decade and more ago. Staring me into eternity, or now. Whichever came first.
Now here I am.
Memory as time machine.
God, if I only knew then what I know now (you foolish cliche-whore!).
Stay right there, lad, stay right there.
Frozen in time.
In that night felled, cottage mirror.
But still safe.