Milo and Me

Milo and Me- Born well-timed fore-teen mouths from Me. In an unknown town, in New York somewhere north of Albany. Known to the Native American-as Wings Falls- In their time-so it seemed. Known as Milo to only a few--but to Me, my Brother-Best Friend! But- It’s my assumption GOD had other intentions- for Milo and Me. We lived and were reared by that poor family. On that unknown Street- North-off Main Street. Known to few-like J.F.COOPER and the“Mahikans.” North about 66 miles from Albany. You will ask of me and I know-how did two mountain boys ever make it off that Street? It would have seemed to the multitude residing near that street- That Milo and me were as good as disconnect from ANY Eternal Majesty. My resolution to you would be-only by GOD’S Devine Grace and Majesty. Then-the day came, much to the surprise of Milo and Me- Mom and Dad sold that OLD CURSED house on that infamous street. We moved clear across town to a more superior Street--or it seemed? Until- Milo and Me got to know the natives living ON THAT STREET! You see- on THIS STREET for Milo and Me-we discovered our addictions- can’t you see? Myself just 13, and for Milo, fore-teen mouths younger than Me. It started with drinking some “stout,” with was innocent-initially, then lead to trips with Mary-Jan-I hope YOU see. My presumption is for Milo and Me-we should have never got to know- those good old boy on-THAT STREET! Well-If I told the rest of this story-though poetry, it would be far too long--hope you can see. So--let Me take you to the end of the story. We will travel by make-believe time machine.. Close your eyes, Close your eyes,--so you can’t see. Fast forward we go, to the year 1998-now you may see!! By this time, for Milo and Me, we had not seen each-other in a LONG time-you see? For each of us--a Wife and some kids-- only if you could have seen! You would know-- the pain and heartache without Milo and Me. You may notice and see now- But--you will NOT find--Milo and Me. You see, you see-- it has been ten years now--for Milo and Me. He journeyed to some faraway land, to get away from--his home land. Helped by the Army--left 3 little girls to fend for themselves--in His home land. At the end now- I raise one final toast to the memory of Milo and Me. Not a toast like the days of glory brought--from some fine ALE- or smoke from Mary-Jane. But--a toast--or better said--a petition of a different sort. To the GOD we once knew together as young men-- on THAT STREET!! By: W.E.M