my friend...

When in the sun
the days seemed so long,
like we would never
get anywhere,
feeding time
along the edge
of a silver ship,
glistening to a
black moon.

Carry me to the shore
with a song the will never
grow any one old.

When the days
folded like paper cranes,
along the rocky deserts,
it seemed so far,
that we would never
get lost
with the trees or
shadow the brook's
with broken leaves.

A friend is a friend
of a friend,
though time tells the tale
otherwise.