Old friend, you’ve aged. Your laughter has creased the sides of your mouth and eyes, but I still see the 10 year old beneath them.
Old friend, you’re tired. The wind of your cares has blown its’ mark on your head and hands, but did not erase the scar above your nose from the baseball I threw as it bounced past your glove.
Old friend, the T-shirt I borrowed got its’ fair share of grass and blood stains and was hopelessly scoured and bleached, but your initials are still visible on the tag.
Old friend, your old home phone still rings, but no one knew you by name when I called.
Old friend, one day we went inside after playing for the last time, and we didn’t know it. I guess it was better that way.
Old friend, you’ve moved on, as have I, but am always close to a laugh when I think of your arrow sailing past the target through the garage window. Those memories are mine and are held in high regard.
Yours always and truly,
An old friend