The Circus

The circus has fallen down

to knees it never thought could

buckle. 

The big top is all but put up

In some other, distant town. 

And I

being of the last 

must lock up everything. 

Must store our memories away

of time when life

was learned at play. 

The bonds of our adolescents

now become the chains

securing our promises--

ones we skance remember 

and other we shall never forget. 

A toast:

"To us girls, as we set foot

from here. 

I have heard it whispered

By 17th century men of cloth,

As well as pen:

"Real friends are our greatest joy

and, our greatest sorrow."

Is that why I cry today,

or is it what follows next:

"all true and faithful friends

should expire on the same day"?

For we did not expire

But moved on, as if

inspired

by some mainstream current

to shed the child's life

in search of adult wishes. 

So spiteful and divided 

Belloc comes to me

in remindance of my pleasant friends

and the love we share

despite distance. 

As I age

I sympathize with Tomas:

"loving those most whom I loved first"

dwelling with sadness on thoughts

of who left first. 

Days are a bit longer now,

nights a tad slower,

as I'm left to mediate

a once crowded bar

with newly vacant stools. 

We were friends who flourished in our flock,

now to manage life's migrations. 

Some went west

stars pasted to eyes. 

Some to the city

a future to materialize. 

I am here, with sorrowful surprise. 

Yet,

I embrace the new day,

as I look forward to new years

for the circus shall pass this way again,

and dragging out a ringleader's costume

I will unlock those chains of promise

ushering in

The Greatest Friends on Earth.