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 sunset

The sounds of the city

Sifting through the 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...