The day began as it might,
A cold drink outside. The sun returned
With enthusiasm to its duties, bathing all
It surveyed with rays that poured
Down like honey. Two friends sat
And gratefully took all that it offered.
The tree of death loomed with its unregimented
Spears pointing where they pleased, winter's last
Cry for attention. But summer now sat
On winter's February throne.
The Plaza offered its embracing arms,
Which once inside all troubles dissolved.
Care and worry found no sanctuary there,
They slid off the mind like rain from rooftops.
The sun warmed and softened the minds
Of the two friends, their conversations meant
Everything and nothing. So much and so little achieved;
Love, life, the ways of the world. Ugly birds.
The smoke's dance mimicked to perfection
The contentment that flowed through the day,
A leisurely river that would not be dammed.
A day so fine will not call again soon,
And until it does, I owe two debts.
One to the friend with who this day was shared,
And the other to another,
That dared me to capture it in words.
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