the address book

the delicate flower we never noticed when we were young
swaying in the breeze, the colour of the sun
we were all sprinters in the grass rushing by
not often did we stop to observe the rarest butterfly

and i knew you and you knew me
and in some distant way we were friends
in the way you never hear a river until it rounds its bend
and the flower of youth we place on it is a testament to years gone by
we see it as it disappears to the river and the sky...



the delicate friendship you offer me comforts me in this age
and tho’ we now see old photographs – butterflies against the page
now we’re walking together knowing the warmth of the sun
your name in my address book in this life we share as one