Old Friends

Attended the 70th birthday party of an old friend last night, a native Minnesotan who fittingly read this poem to us in gratitude (which was mutual):

Old Friends

BY FREYA MANFRED

Old friends are a steady spring rain,

or late summer sunshine edging into fall,

or frosted leaves along a snowy path—

a voice for all seasons saying, I know you.

The older I grow, the more I fear I'll lose my old friends,

as if too many years have scrolled by

since the day we sprang forth, seeking each other.

 

Old friend, I knew you before we met.

I saw you at the window of my soul—

I heard you in the steady millstone of my heart

grinding grain for our daily bread.

You are sedimentary, rock-solid cousin earth,

where I stand firmly, astonished by your grace and truth.

And gratitude comes to me and says:

 

"Tell me anything and I will listen.

Ask me anything, and I will answer you."*

Old friends really do compensate for most of the added aches and pains that follow time's arrow, and even the eventual subtraction of old friends.

* https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/151351/old-friends