To My Oldest Friend

Two journeyed in a lifeless desert land
Remembering their safer greener past
From which they’d glimpsed bright lights across the sand.
They went to find these lights; each willed it so —
True friends share compasses – but they diverged,
Each thinking his the truest way to go.
But many times their choice-twinned paths recrossed
And each shared what he’d learnt since they’d met last.
Both still saw lights, and neither one was lost.
There were no farewell words, nor any greetings
(Companionship was present but submerged –
Their aim was shared between their place-shared meetings)
For good things never have a pleasant end.
And each is proud to call the other “friend.”