truth

Has so much nothing come to pass in these five years, that you can’t talk to me old friend?
Can we now only speak of how good it was back then?
Has not happenstance forced you to say words bold or fresh?
Or can we now only recall the young pursuit of flesh?
I suppose that you are no longer the rushing stream of wit.
Or is it I that has you in a muted fit?
What if I had not come out this cold and somber day?
Would you even recall my face while passing where I stay?
You surely knew and meant to stop by soon.
Oh! I understand it’s very nearly noon.
You’ll see my home once more I think, don’y hesitate to call.
Is my name still fresh on your mind? Should I write it on the wall?
It seems best that we shake hands; it seems just more polite.
And next time, if I pass you by- please note, it’s out of spite.