Our Song Has Sung its Song
Mercy strikes the bottom rung
When watching time float bye,
Older friends from older times
Now strive to catch the eye.
When opportune the time of day
Doth intercede our view,
Of wrinkles in abundance
Through fading shades of blue.
Thee thought that little changed
In the passing of the day
As fading recollections
Of forgotten moments play.
That what was once is now no more
The conversations wilt.
As the milk of distant yesterdays
Lies irresolutely, spilt.
The skein of time hath pass us bye
That interceding mesh,
Of diluted common artifacts
That, once, entwined our flesh.
Common ground, way back , so warm
Now faltering in flow,
As eyes, as one, when comrades then
No longer see the glow.
There's a sadness in the distance,
Remoteness in the air,
Our golden sun is setting
Yet some sunbeams linger there.
As I farewell old companions
From that other age, far gone,
There are remnants of the magic
But our song has sung its song.
Dadda DDA
26 November 2024
Somber reflections of a recent reunion of the now 80 year old remnants of the 1965 graduates from Dookie Agricultural College in Victoria, Australia.