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.