When we've all grown up and stopped our protesting on principle, where will we be, you and I? Standing on the same side, weapons down, hearts heavy or I am out there alone?
Will the ties that bind simply loosen themselves until such time that their slackened strands beat only out of habit? When the bluebird stops singing on our shoulders, does that mean that the clock has struck 12 and I'm standing next to a pumpkin, wiping away tears?
Do friendships need physical distance to evaporate or did they share the same bed and yet were miles apart? Will you and I ever see to eye to eye ever or again?
Let your feelings of doubt wash over you like a warm blanket. Let them in, let them die, mourn their loss and move on.
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