Lost Friends
In youth I moved from place to place
And left my friends at each behind,
And when I think of each lost face,
My thoughts to distant parts retrace,
Where, if I went, I know I'd find,
Each face would now with age be lined.
And when I think of those lost friends,
To me they are all fixed in time,
My mind, for them does time suspend,
No ravages of time offend;
They still to me are in their prime;
That hill of age they've yet to climb.
And if sometimes these friends so few
Do think of me in parts far flung;
If they still see me as they knew
Me when we said that last adieu;
This memory to which they've clung,
In this at least, I'm ever young.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
Added by Poetry Lover
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