The Inkwell

Relieved

The message responded to,

the seed of panic begins to grow

old faces from the past

you haven’t seen for years

Contact – thin on the ground

Telephone – no obvious sound

haven’t seen many of them around

feeling like a lost and found

As day grows near – you wander more

what you want to be there for ?

ghosts of past – appear no end

enough to drive you round the bend

You go to the place – and to your surprise

a friendly face – you’re recognised

nerves begin to ease a while

as old chums welcome you with a smile