BOOKENDS

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...

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