I sat at the old desk ready to write a letter or two,
And I sat and wondered what I should write about,
My mind drifted back when my friend I first met,
Was it really fifty years ago when it all came about?
I could see the dress she wore, the way she brushed her hair,
The way she always smiled, and the sparkle in her eyes.
I remember the very first word she spoke many years ago
And how our special friendship has improved both our lives.
I sat and wrote a long letter and told of my memories true,
And how I missed her and all the things we used to do.
The letter was quite long, and full of much laughter and fun,
It reminded me of our friendship strong, known to very few.
Day by day I waited quite patiently for her letter of reply,
There was no doubt that it would come, she would answer,
Her many memories to share, some more fun and laughter.
It came, and oh the joy it did bring, and a tear to my eye.
We planned a visit to meet again after many years apart.
Many miles separated us, yet nothing could ever mar
The closeness and the friendship that we had to share,
As I waited, the plane came in, I could hear my beating heart.
I stretched and strained to see her coming through the crowd.
People meeting people all around, sounds of joy and laughter,
Sounds like sobs in the happy gathering of those waiting,
I saw her coming through the gate, we both shouted out loud.
For we saw each other at the same moment in that merry throng,
The day dreams all had vanished now, we were both so real.
The holiday was wonderful and days slid past like minutes
As we did things together, as we did years ago, when we were young.
We still kept on writing, and as the many years went by
Letters were still filled with day dreams, and a cheery word.
Till one day whilst reading, I knew she had passed away.
She seemed to come to me to say a sweet and tender goodbye.
I sat in the evening shadows and thought of our closeness
That had lasted all these years, though we were miles apart.
Although I knew I would miss her, our day dreams never dim,
And I could read her letters and think back to the dress
She wore the very first day we met, the sparkle in her eye.
The funny tales she wrote about, I could read again and again,
Look forward to the time when we both will meet once more,
For I know a friendship like ours can never really die.
M Ann Margetson ©
Noveoomber 1997
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