Forgotten Friends

The morning mist was soft and sweet when we were barely grown,

We’d sit upon the porch swing, talkin’ ‘bout the Great Unknown.

We didn’t have a copper cent, just dreams and dusty shoes,

But we had a wealth of kindness that we didn’t know we’d lose.

We swore we’d always walk the path, hand in calloused hand,

But the world’s a shiny siren, and she’s got a big command.

You headed for the city lights to build a tower tall,

And I got lost in papers, tryin’ hard to have it all.

The Climbing Years

We traded in the mountain air for the smell of cold, hard cash,

Building fences made of marble, making quite a splash.

The letters stopped arriving, and the phone forgot to ring,

We were too busy counting feathers to remember how to sing.

We thought  success  a ladder, made of iron and of pride,

But the higher up we climbed, the more we left beside.

We bought the finest linens and the watches made of gold,

While the garden of our brotherhood grew gray and thick with mold.

The Bitter Harvest

Then the seasons took a turn, as the seasons always do,

The hair turned white as winter, and the many became few.

Standing in a quiet house, with trophies on the shelf,

It’s a lonely kind of victory when you’re standing by yourself.

All those suits and shiny cars don’t offer much embrace,

They can’t recall a childhood joke or recognize your face.

And the “important” things we chased—the titles and the pay—

They’re just echoes in a canyon as the sun begins to gray.

The Golden Homecoming

But then I saw you on the porch,  right where the river bends,

Two tired souls lookin’ back, findin’ two forgotten friends.

We didn’t talk of bank accounts or the battles that we won,

We talked about the way the light looks with the setting sun.

It’s funny how the longest road leads back to where you start,

Realizing that the only true investment is the heart.

The “stuff” is just a shadow, and the fame is just a blur,

It’s the loving and the knowing—there’s the gold, that’s for sure.

So take my hand, old partner, let the material world go by,

We’ve got a little time left ‘neath this big and open sky.

Turns out the greatest treasure that a human life can send,

Is just the simple, holy mercy… of a true and faithful friend.

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