Old Friends
Nov 29, 2020
An old apple tree had long been my dear friend. He and I were of similar height in our infancy. He began bearing fruit the year I learned to ride a bike. He caressed me when I dared to climb to the height of his arms. Years later, I returned to him three separate times. First, with my daughter. Next, with my grandson. And then, at length, with my resting bones.
Michael R Kiel Fictions
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