My Old School Friend
I shall not ever find her in a hairdresser’s shop one day
considering colours to combat signs of first greys.
Nor brush shoulders with her at a busy beauty counter
buying lotions and potions promoting eternal youth.
If anywhere I might find her in a deserted schoolyard,
at midsummer dusk, face flushed from playing chasing
games whose very names I have forgotten or perhaps
linking hands, forming a ring, singing with other sad-eyed friends.
In my dreams she’s forever waving goodbye at a shadowy
And I’m calling “see you tomorrow” unaware of her fate...
©2006 Linda Preston
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