Old Friends

<br>Old friends, old friends sat on their parkbench like bookends<br>A newspaper blowin through the grass<br>Falls on the round toes of the high shoes of the old friends<br><br>Old friends, winter companions, the old men<br>Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sun<br>The sounds of the city sifting through trees<br>Settles like dust on the shoulders of the old friends<br><br>Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a parkbench quietly<br>How terribly strange to be seventy<br><br>Old friends, memory brushes the same years, silently sharing the same fears