this fading light

at twenty you hardly had room
for another friend, straddling
childhood and manhood,
the cupboard filled. the shelves
overflowing with everyone
you knew from the beginning
of when you tied your first shoe.
then the thirties and forties
brought marriage and children.
the wheel of work.
a different crowd, the old
one fading away into their
own lives. who had the time.
and now, past the middle years,
you go to the shelves again
and see that death is a
clearing house, a broom
that sweeps away both
the present and the past
of friends. it saddens you,
this life. these empty
shelves. this fading light.