Old Friends

Like the comfort of twenty-year walks
We slip in that familiar pace
Our feet match up
Our faces, our minds.

You know me so well.
No need to finish the objects, the verbs.
No need to stem the flow
Or soften the blow.
One eyebrow raised gives the game away
And we burst in giggles as we did before.

No game this,
Just hearts meeting,
Sharing life and wonders.
Harbour for each other.

This poem about dear friends is a tribute to Dave King, a good man, poet and friend, who regularly participated in dVerse Poets Pub