A look at the clock said it was four,
When it seemed like eight,
And the time took to reach this point
Was filled with more than could possibly
Have been jimmied into it,
Even though we were
Bidding farewell in a windowless function room
And closeted by conversation and ale,
And hadn’t even gone to the top shelf.
Still we were here,
And glad to be,
But the next act happened so fast
That when checked again
The time was indeed much later than thought,
And the flux of duration afterwards
Alternated between further extremes,
And the accrual of this news,
And cause of it,
Can only be attributed to the depth of friendship,
And need to relive the lives we’d already led.
And maybe the length of the bar tab,
And the labyrinthine setting,
Conspired to hot wire our body clocks,
Or it could be that the tales and travails,
The stories and glories,
The anecdotes and quotes
Spoken of
Colluded
And before we knew it
We were no longer twenty anymore
But in our forties.
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