Walking with friends

Every friend you hold dear to your heart,
will disappear one day — through your death or theirs,
and you can only hope,
that your experiences were rich enough,
to bring back a fleeting smile through the tears.

There will be a long hurt,
and a sorrow in your heart,
as you pay the bill you never asked for,
that Life had slid across the restaurant table,
to you,
as you sit stunned, watching Life
makes a dash to the door for the next appointment
(to who, it does not matter).

We love, and we resist love,
we shield ourselves from it with hate,
until a rare fellow comes our way,
not resisting us,
but walking with our flow.
It’s in our make up,
as we walk along the same path as them,
that we will eventually share a yarn.

I can’t see past the next corner.
Whether it’s paved with more adventures,
or links straight into an open highway,
but I can say this —
I share the journey with many dear friends,
who will mourn me,
as others I have mourned for.