Friendship

Title: Friendship

Author: Silence the Poet

Down the road my soul doth watch a procession nearing

the grim march of reapers dark who soon doth to after

The death march

closer to me tears do well up in

for the procession is the march

of my friend (dear friend, good-bye)

as the march passes me by

a man approaches my

his cold hand rests on my shoulder

and he says "In me you may confide"

"thank you kind sir" I then replied

he looked into the distance solemnly

"Here before me my friend has died"

I wept before him...

he let me be

"You tell me your friend has died"

He said in a voice of sorrow

"you are wrong in this respect

your friend lives on time-borrowed"

I pondered this in confusion

and then replied "I don't understand"

He shook his head and looked at me

"tell me this, can you feel the land?"

Even more confused than before,

I reached down to touch the ground,

and aback I was taken

for feeling had left

"What does this mean oh man who is cold?

Did you mean to say I am dead?"

"You gave your life, for a friend,

and your friend is not in casket bed"

"In that casket your body lies

and you have passed along in sorrow,

for now your friend has to live

on time you lended and time he borrowed...

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