Michael

The glory days of yesterday are a distant memory of the past.
A cloud of loneliness hangs overhead, and shows no sign of abating.
The boys are scattered, blown across the nation, by the winds of time.
And my friend battles his demons, with his hands tied behind his back.

A certain sadness engulfs me, as I think of my friend.
The larger than life persona is now a mirage, in the rear view mirror.
The voice is feeble, the spirit is wavering, the hearty laugh intact.
The sound of his voice is still up-lifting. The love flows freely.
I must go and see him, before it is too late.