I was in the yard on this warm, sunny day, the phone rang,

The other end a friend from over forty years in the past.

We met when we were ten, basketball many times back then,

The last time were face to face it was nineteen eighty somewhere.

He was searching for a street, a job in my town, thought he would call,

We spoke while he drove, after his job was through, a mile up the road.

After all these years only a walk away, said he would call, a visit this way,

Things never stay the same, the world does change, friends forever drift.

Thirty five years ago and just a mile up the road were only a dream,

I couldn’t believe he did not show, not a call on the phone, a mile up the road,

Things are never the same, why do people become this way,

Should I feel a gift in the call or why did he at all?

Keith Garrett