This poem emerged from my ongoing (never-ending?) archiving project. I’m sure it reflects a widespread feeling.
Where are those friends
who have drifted downstream
so far from our still grinding mill?…
The first grade best friend
who built with me
castles of sand,
That summer camp comrade
who told me
why parents sleep
doubled in bed,
The roommate in college
who heard of our meeting
that breathless first time,
My best friend that year
when we broke up
and made up
and tiptoed on fragments
of innocence,
The bridesmaid who fainted in heat
from those summer day kisses
that sealed our promises,
Where have they gone
on that river downstream
where the ocean receives all the water
that powers our mill?
Thank you, Thomas! I didn’t see the connection but happy that you got this gift. I’m also glad that you are still visiting the old mill, not to mention the old apartment. Many blessings,
Bill
Bill,
I just noticed that you posted this lovely poem on my birthday! What a beautiful thought to have on one’s birthday and thank life for all its ebb and flow! Taking one more step toward that “Ocean” that powers our mill! Thank you my friend.
I got two Facebook laughs in all. This is a pre-tech poem, I guess. On the other hand, it causes us to think about whether we can ever have a friend apart from the total context in which they became our “friend.” The loss of the context is the loss of the full meaning of that friend. Facebook is a different context with its own parameters. Maybe that’s why they don’t use the older word “befriend.” Something has been lost.
Thanks for your comments!
I think you can find them on Facebook. Just kidding. This is lovely.