Old Friends/ Bookends

Old Friends
Old Friends
Sat on their park bench like bookends
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 thier 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
It was a time
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

It's always strange to meet up with old friends and catch up. Recounting the past 4 years is a difficult task, but it can be achieved with copious amounts of caffeine. Old friends know your past achievements, your mannerisms, your fears. They KNOW you in intimate ways that sometimes you wished they didn't. Old friends are like a tattered paperback, well read, a little worse for wear. Old friends are comfortable, but there is a reason why they are "old" friends and not "new" friends.