Old Friends/Bookends

Old friends, old friends
Sat on their park bench like bookends
A newspaper blowin' through the grass
Falls on the round toes on the high shoes of the old friends

Old friends, winter companions
The old men lost in their overcoats waiting for the sun
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settles 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 fear

Time it was
And what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence
A time of confidences
Long ago, it must be
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories
They're all that's left you