I used to miss my old friends,
The sardonic humour soaked with beer,
Speckled with sarcasm, insults loaded,
Jovial, of course.
Then we grow, older, apart, distant,
Meeting every now and again
Reliving shared rose-tinted histories,
Hazy and dusty with age.
Retelling stories, engorged in distortions,
All nodding and laughing,
Hiding our joint indifference to one another.
Piping up, hollering, even howling
An unamusing pantomime performance,
Comes to a forgetful silence,
Eyes shifting, mouths closed,
Just watching the time tick by
Until we can leave and live our lives again.