Reflections Of Friends Poem by Surajit Basu

The earth goes around the sun
Not once but thirty times.
Yet it's just a blink of an eye
Since the day we all met
For the first time ever.

Through the unknown,
Now remembered gate,
When we passed through for the first time -
We see ourselves
In the quiet retrospection of the evening,
An evening of lamplight and Glenfiddich -
Our immature childish selves,
A bunch of know-it-alls,
Riding high on a wave of success,
Competing in our cocoon,
Drunk in self-belief,
High that our innate ability got us high.

Indeed, we nod sagely at the thought,
Without pausing to reflect:
Have we changed at all?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The mirror tells no tales,
But I need the eyes to see.
The mirror tells a tale,
But I need the mind to see
The past and the present
Counter-posed
Like a long-forgotten Limca ad.

My hair is grey, and not just with years.
My mind is full, and not just with fears.
My heart is heavy, and not just with tears.

Standing at the Bridge, I'd wonder:
Was it a waste? Did I learn?
Later in life, will I flounder-blunder?
...And how much will I earn?
There's just one thing I knew for sure:
My friendships here will endure.

And now, as I stand
Before the mirror with wider eyes,
I see not just myself -
Drawn with lines of care,
Pot-bellied, hairline receding
Against the timeless onslaught of the waves of time -
But beside me,
A set of blurry images,
Of all of you, my dear friends,
Fading into each other,
And into me.