One summer, Mary and I spent a week with some old friends at Lake Raystwon in Central Pennsylvania. A few weeks later we had breakfast with some old friends here at our condominium. It seems that most of my time these days is spent with "old" friends. I got to thinking that there might be a reason for that. And so I came up with the following poem. I hope you enjoy it, particularly those of you who are of the "older" persuasion.

I Met an Old Friend this Week

Jay D Weaver
The "old" Professor
I met an old friend this week.
He is fat, he is bald and he's old.
His steps are real slow and a little unsteady,
And his hands and his feet always cold..

I met an old friend this week.
His face reflects feelings of pain.
He rubs both his knees and flexes his fingers,
But you seldom will hear him complain.

I met an old friend this week.
His lips can still manage a smile.
He rubs his old chin and says with a grin;
“I think I will stay here awhile.”

I met an old friend this week.
His voice is still strong and quite sure.
He hums an old song as he shuffles along,
And his tones are still vibrant and pure.

I met an old friend this week.
His face is quite wrinkled you see.
I looked in the mirror and knew who he was,
For that friend in the mirror was me.

-Jay D Weaver

Copyright © Jay D Weaver - September 17, 2005

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