The Meeting
Today I met a very old friend
I hadn't seen in years;
We sat and poured out memories
Into each other's ears.
We swapped a hundred stories
Of how we'd fared since school,
When he had been so clever,
And I had seemed a fool.
He said he recollected
How he remembered me,
And what I used to look like
When we were in 3 B.
I don't suppose he realized
That he had changed as well;
He didn't give it any thought
As far as I could tell.
But Howard looked so different,
His hair as grey as ash;
It lent the man a genteel air,
As did his grey moustache.
My friend was once a business man,
Successful in his field;
But I possessed no bank-account,
Nor any power to wield.
And manifest upon the brow
Of Howard Jones, my friend,
Were lonely lines of worry
No money could amend.
For happiness cannot be bought
No matter what men say;
And Howard was a loser
With no jokers left to play.
The joy of power and money
Had filled his greedy heart,
'Til Howard and his 'happiness'
One day, like we, did part.
Written May 1995
poem by John Carter Brown
Added by Poetry Lover
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