The Stones

A poem I wrote a long time ago about coming to the end of a friendship.
Walking slowly to my Grandmother's,
Joined by my sister and brother,
I walk through a jungle. Of cars.
But look down to another.

Hidden between the dulling trees,
Is a long round stone seat,
It's faces it's twin, inches longer,
This is where my friends used to meet,
On those hot Summer days,
When our friendship was young,
You could, in some matters, say
It's where the chase began,

But the stone benches, they are sad now,
Covered by graffiti, shrouded in litter,
So quickly they grow old and die,
Not unlike the friendship making me bitter.

By Poppy Fields
Published: 12/5/2005		 Your Contributions: Tell us a Poem! You don't have to be a Buzzle.com author to contribute to Poetry Bee. Submit a poem of your own right now!
 
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