Recognize.

But time, the sculptor, with a gentle hand,

Has etched new lines where smooth skin used to be.

You\'re aging, friend, across this shifting land,

And watching it from far, it breaks my heart to see.

Because I don\'t see you every day,

Nor every week, nor even every month, it\'s true.

The quiet years have stolen much away,

And left a space between the me and you.

I look, and search for features I once knew,

A landscape of a face held close and dear.

And in this moment, startling, stark, and new,

I feel that I don\'t recognize you here.

The eyes that sparkled, the smile I knew so well,

Are veiled by years I haven\'t watched unfold.

A stranger\'s touch, a story time can tell,

A face transformed, beyond what I\'ve been told.

Yet then you speak, a word, a laugh, a sigh,

And through the years, a lightning bolt of sound!

Familiar magic, banishing all fear,

The true, unchanging essence I have found.

I recognize the voice, a comfort deep and strong,

A steady beacon, cutting through the haze.

But still, the sight before me feels so wrong—

I don\'t recognize you in these passing days.

It hurts, this strange divide, this aching truth,

To hear the soul, but miss the outer guide.

The changing canvas of our shared youth,

Leaves nowhere for my memory to hide.

No, it\'s not just hurt; a sadness, vast and deep,

Envelops me, for what we\'ve lost to space.

A silent, solemn promise I will keep,

To hold the voice, despite the changing face.