A Muse: The Dying Friendship of J.T. and I.H.

Why did no one tell us of
The wretched death of friendships
In the years of our flowering youth,
When all companionry seemed portentious
Of tomorrow? No expiration
Seemed to us inevitable, lurking
In the hidden places of future
Despair, waiting to come snidely smirking
As it abducted age-old friends
To bring our connection into silent
Death - thinking it had escaped our
Notice - NO! I will rage and be violent
At that thief called Time, pilfering my
Affections dime-by-dime; he durst
Not take more at once, else all would
Surely see his scheme, and all burst
Vibrantly to pen and phone, searching
Out emaciated comrades, forgotten
Decades ago, or perhaps only months or days
Restoring what decayed, and thence was rotten
To its Glory in days gone by when,
With all alacrity the guarantee of sacrifice
Was a footnoted conclusion of all
Brothers and sisters, by blood or not, no price
Was too high for their eternal bond to bear
Yes! These once were called as "friends"
Oh! Sorry are our present days when
Friend means not sacrifice, but ease
When convenience may motivate
But commitment is called disease;
Shall all this be decried as mere
Wishful thought? O Heaven! Make aright
All that which by time decays
And yields at last without a fight!

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world

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