To a friend

kushtrimthaqi

my friend,
when I get old…
(if, I have the privilege
to get old)
I would like to meet you.

on a Sunday morning
in the cobbled streets
of Prizren,
or, at the cafeteria
in front of the mosque,
I would like to meet you.
And I would love
for you to ask me,
“Hi there, old friend,
how have you been?”

even if my memory betrays me

and I forget
who you have been;
even if I’m lost
in that vague space
of my empty mind;
I would love,
for you to stop me
and ask,
“Hi there, old friend…
how have you been?”

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