Old Friends

　　Old friends old friends

　　Sat on their parkbench 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 parkbench quietly

　　How terribly strange to be sevent

　　Old friends memory brushes the same years

　　Silently sharing the same fears