My friends

So, where are my friends, the ones I used to know, the ones who shared a thing or two with me and a pillow if that were so.
Where are my old friends? The ones that I used to talk to, on music, of the future and of prowess; the ones I used to come home to, lay on their sofa, and felt like the most high.

Where are now, my friends, now that I lay in the gutter,
roam on skid row, where are they now, those, who used to laugh with me because we all thought life was the greatest at that moment ... my friends ... where are you now.



Words by Ivan R
Read 904 times
Written on 2019-04-03 at 16:18

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ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
It is the bad times that are the best of times. Those times proves who are our genuine Friends.
Ken D
2019-10-05


Ann Wood The PoetBay support member heart!
A very good question, some time we found out who are ours real friends when we lost everything, then we see who will stay and who will go, just because you are poor at the moment. Such a lovely poem well done my friend.
2019-06-02