Friendship

Who can say what makes us friends?
Who can say what keeps us close?
There are a million reasons to drift away--but
some stay.

Despite the miles,
despite the changes,
despite the erosions of time and obligation,
we pick up where we left off
every time, against all expectation,
and somehow, it's the same conversation:
interrupted, for sure, but
still the same you, the same me,
speaking our language, our laughter,
our points of congruity.
That never seems to change.

I can't help but believe
it never will, and maybe
that's what God and eternal life are all about.
Love lives on.

I write this, thinking of you, Sandy;
of you, Jeff; of you, Doug;
of all the yous I no longer see,
living or dead--
gone from sight, but not from heart,
all of you alive in memory.
No matter how far you've gone,
no matter what dimension you inhabit,
no matter when we meet--or if we will again--
it will always be the same.
Some stay.