In Repose

Of a dear old friend,
So many tales be to tell.
A few pictures and the few words,
Of forgiven love and forsaken swords.
On grand old graves we swore,
A friend forever is a friend no more,
Moments of repose forever lost,
On we go for we must.
Of old bent trees we'he heard,
By the winter so many fall,
Oh and by summer newer leaves abound,
And so does our time call.
And yet in folly we wait,
For forgotten times to be remade,
The first steps are hard to take,
And thus a destiny we fake.