Like an old friend
Spring Returns like and old friend
Home from war.
He carries on the same as ever
only he is colder and cries more often.
Home from the war
But hardly finished
Never finished so long as there is life to grow
and cycle wars will be fought.
Summer has returned like that old traveling salesman.
Traveling east to west
No clouds float around his head
Hazy day dream
He has a bad back and charred perspective and shivers in autumnal dread
and by winter he'll be buried in his steel coffin.
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Comments about this poem (Like an old friend by jerome moore )
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