It was the time of night when ghosts walk,
people talked of wishbones and dream times.
We were sitting around an oak dining table
breaking bread together…
sharing a bottle of wine;
relaxing in that ‘oh so’ familiar scene.
Old friends – new friends
like moths around the flame,
sifting through their memories;
like a newly discovered game.
Leading each other word for word,
and hand in hand;
for a stroll down memory lane.
How many times have I spent
basking in this warmth
of friendships freely given.
Looking around the room,
feeling the glow, I realise
these are people who care…
if I win or lose.
When all else is lost
to the winds of time,
raise your hands in surrender.
These friends will gladly take a stand,
and take your outstretched helpless hands;
to guide you back to the safety
of this wondrous room.
If some friends fall along the way
others will come to save the day.
Of those that are now long gone…
or simply passed away;
there is always memory lane to walk down.
They will be there…
as you will be.