York Class of 65

Old Friends

Song by Simon and Garfunkel

 

Old friends, old friends

Sat on their park bench like bookends

A newspaper blown 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 sunset

The sounds of the city sifting through trees

Settle like dust on the shoulders of the old friends

 

Can you imagine us years from today

Sharing a park bench quietly?

How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends, memory brushes the same years

Silently sharing the same fears