We are going to grow old together,
My friends and I.

We'll plant tomatoes,
Or drink wine,
While tears stream down faces,
And bellies ache,
As we amuse ourselves so.

Creating buckets lists,
We explore possibilities - 
All with creature comforts,
Within three hours of home.

We talk about death,
Not because we are close - 
Yet -
But because we know those who are.
The finality of it all
Shocks us into a silly
Acknowledgement of our own mortality.

Today, we eat, talk, play and laugh.
Knowing the travels of our hearts 
May be the distance we will go,
As we grow in the 
Grace of true friendships.