cup a joe

Just wrote an e-mail to an old friend who I haven't spoken with in years.  I'm not sure he is going to respond - the last time we talked things were tense.  I'm getting to a place in my life where I'm realizing time is too short for stuff like that.  I used to think that there would come a day when he and I would be doing ministry together.  I still think about that - although now it seems more like a dream.  I pray he responds.

Old friends, old friends sat on their parkbench like bookends
A newspaper blowin' 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 seventy

Old friends, memory brushes the same years, silently sharing the same fears

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