I recall the days, your hand held mine,
We laughed and joked and life was fine.

Then the hands of time, whipped you unmercifully,
Right before my eyes, yet I didn't see.
The struggle you had as it drained your strength,
I thought you were safe, though you were losing the race.

Now your hand is aged, and not as warm as it was,
And my hand hold yours, as if it were a glove.

No matter what this life has left in store,
We'll walk hand 'n hand through that unknown door!

NOTE: This poem is dedicated to my dear, aged friend; four decades she has been my mentor. It's my anniversary; I quit
smoking 25 years ago today. And I did so at her encouragement!