Old Friends
what will i do
when i can no longer
confide in you
the one more time
when you or i
have gone
the other way
what will i be
when thirst
is only for a last
draught of you
the long slow tally
of all that was
whisperings
barely heard
the night bird
rustling from its perch
in winter branches
watching
barren earth
for prey
listening in
the morning
for another’s song