Old friends

Old friends

 Sat on their park bench like bookends

 A newspaper blowin' 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 sunset

 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 fear

 

 A 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 you

 

Yes, how terribly strange, yet wonderful, to be 70+.  I wish some classmates could be here to share a park bench; however, many have passed.  I will preserve their memories.  I thank those who have contributed to this preservation.  When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure.