Old Friends

Old friends
Old friends sat on their park bench like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes of the high shoes
Of the old friends

Old friends
Winter companions
The old men lost in their overcoats waiting for the sun
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settle like dust on the shoulders
Of the old friends

Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly
How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends
Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fears

Time it was and what a time it was it was
A time of innocence
A time of confidences
Long ago it must be
I have a photograph; preserve your memories
They're all that's left of you