Dear Fred,

"Old friends,
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends.
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the 'round toes
On the high shoes
Of the old friends.

Old friends.
Winter companions,
The old men
Lost in their overcoats,
Waiting for the sunset.
The sounds of the city,
Sifting through trees,
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends

Can you imagine us
Years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy.
Old friends,
Memory brushes the same years,
Silently sharing the same fear..."

Love,




Sean

Italy

I saw the statue of David. I saw Rembrant paintings. I saw Da Vinci sketches. I saw Michaelangelo's slaves. I saw the Arsenali. I saw the Giardini. I was embarrassed that Bruce Nauman represented USA. I saw Rauschenburg's exhibit. I saw Futurism at its best. I saw the Medici Palace. I saw Geotto's bell tower. I saw Donatello's cathedral statues. I saw a lot more than that. I liked it.