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
Settles 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 (to) you.