Old Friends, Old Friends

I’m fortunate to be one of a group of high school classmates (class of 1962) who make the effort and take the time to get together at least once or twice a year. This past weekend as we gathered once again my best friend, Ron, wore a T-shirt that read: GROWING OLD IS MANDATORY, GROWING UP IS OPTIONAL, and so I was inspired to write this poem.

Old Friends, Old Friends

It’s a curious event when I
Discover an old friend turned old
I look into his eyes and see the
Second grader I used to chase
In an endless game of tag
Today he’d be easy to catch
If only I could still run

Or, as the case may be,
In a young girl’s smile my heart still
Beats faster when aimed at me
Even though familiar eyes are now
Hedged by crow’s feet
But the heart sees differently
Filtered by warm memories
The golden years are not faded
Silver hair not tarnished by dross

Recognizable laughs recapture
Halcyon moments of joy
When all we needed was to be
Mindful of those dinnertime
Announcements from Mom
(Who has long since passed)
Important because Dad (also now gone)
Is home from the “salt mines”
Seated in his favorite chair
Reading the newspaper

There came a day we said “Goodbye”
Not aware it could possibly be a

Forever pronouncement except for
Spiritual ties which kept us linked
Across imperceptible miles
Thankful for those determined to
Resuscitate and rejuvenate
The “Good Ol’ Days”

As we share the stories that have
Become lifelong mementos
Precious remembrances
Glitzed by the glitter time creates
We are old Friends, not Old friends
And I’m blessed in their presence

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