Babes In Arms
Two friends would speak one summer night,
Trapped then in gossip’s throes;
But just one turned toward the light,
Or so the story goes.
The first would breathe the summer air
But on his friend’s face see
His friend did not the same way care;
It was not meant to be.
They were not men, but babes, in arms
And so with arms they fought.
Oblivious to his own charms,
The second friend felt not.
The night was warm, and windy too,
Though dark from the moon’s wane.
Neither friend knew what to do,
For speaking was their bane.
The two would meet, then say goodbye
So quickly afterward,
For their friendship, that night, would die
All for a spoken word.
Both wondering what would come next,
The two then parted ways,
But soon they each became perplexed
After the next few days.
The second friend, uncomfortable,
Upset and so alarmed,
Then told it to another soul;
Not men, but babes in arms.
And so it would perpetuate,
What one tried to impede,
And both men in a solemn state,
Neither were truly freed.
The two friends walk their separate streets,
The bridge between them burned.
Once friends, but later enemies,
One praised, the other spurned.
Not men, but babes in arms were they,
Once friends, but quickly foes.
A friendship ended there that day,
Or so the story goes.
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