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End of the Road
 
He said he was my down-the-road pal
he being my neighbor for more than awhile.

I told him I was down the road, too
a fact he already knew.

We both sensed a truth better left unsaid—
in a fast-coming day both of us would be dead.

We talked of our youth, only miles on the road.
Even then our friendship openly showed.

I told him he had been the best kind of neighbor,
keeping me from trouble with memories to savor.

He smiled as he said I had been the same—
that he respected and honored my name.

He laughed at the time I baked him a pie.
“A least I tried,” I said with sigh.

Then there came quiet, emotions flowed,
for we both knew we were at end of the road.

By poetryaa3

© 2019 poetryaa3 (All rights reserved)

 

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