Friends

When we were young and lived at home, In photo's stored in monochrome; In memories, long lost and fleeting, Our childhoods still take some beating. The local kids were all our friends, And we'd play outside in fields or dens; The days we had felt neverending, Hiding, joking and just pretending. Back then we were inseparable, But now we spend no time at all; I don't know when or why it stopped, Our dens and games got slowly swapped. Though none of us perhaps intend, We slowly leave behind our friends; And though the gap is small to start, Our lives slip further far apart. Age brought new priorities, Like mortgages, partners and studies; Ambition took me far and wide, But something deep inside me died. The dreams and hopes we used to hold, Become more feint as we get old; Our minds get filled with stress and doubt, We forget our 'dens' and playing out. But obviously it's not all bad, You buy a house, become a dad; And though it's daft and makes no sense, I miss those days of innocence. As I sit here now, those years of play, Seem a hundred million years away.