I visited my hometown last summer, stayed with old friends. You know it doesn’t get better than that.
Early morning I was up before the rest. At a window, night wind passing on, making way for sun not yet over the mountains.
A breeze and ten, twenty, years passes. Wind lifting, testing the strength of tree branches. Trees age like us, weaken, die.
But wind lives forever, cycles more rapidly than water. Touched my face in this place when I was young, swirls back these memories to me now that I am not.
Down the street an elderly man walks. Dressed casually but well. Stooped, with blue ballcap, matching blue backpack. Alone on his way, like you, me, and the wind.
Shouldn't...but Do 
perhaps alone, but some walk beside you