Old friends, old friends, sat on their park bench like bookends. A newspaper blown through the grass falls in the round toes of the high shoes 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. — Paul Simon
The past few days, I’ve had occasion to spend time with people with whom I have been friends for more than 55 years. Imagine that. What a blessing to have friends with whom you have aged but who laugh with you and cry with you as though we are still 7 years old. It’s a gift to have these old friends.
Have a great weekend.