Must poems
	Be forever sad?
	Some are
	Forever glad,
	Forever smiling
	As they celebrate
	Life's beguiling
	Founded far away
	And long ago,
	When Time
	Was sweet and slow
	To pass
	Among the tawny
	Stones of academe.
	Those ancient days
	Long have flown,
	Yet memory
	Calls them
	Back to life
	As if it were
	With eager joy
	We reach into
	The grab bag
	Of the past,
	Hap'ly pulling forth
	Tidbits and treasures.
	Once again
	We spin youth's spell,
	Polishing old love
	With new,
	Playing games
	Of what-if
	And never-were,
	When and how and why,
	Till the moon
	Rises high
	And sleep
	Clouds every eye.
	Once again
	We are scholars,
	Lovers, friends
	Who don
	Explorer's souls
	To boldly go
	Inquiring minds
	Prompt and dare us.
	What joy!
	No mere poem
	Can tell
	How wonderful
	Is this spell
	Of friendship,
	These willing bonds
	In the happy daze
	Of youth.
	No words
	Can capture
	What it means
	Today, to cross
	Half a thousand miles
	And half a lifetime,
	Knowing every moment
	You are loved,
	And renewed.
	When the jet's rumble
	Has died away,
	When the house
	Is calm and quiet,
	When dogs
	No longer bark
	At visitors
	In the night--
	Delight remains,
	Soft and warm
	As a summer morn,
	Reminding us
	What friends
	Forever mean
	To one another.


© Fred O'Bryant. All rights reserved.

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