Friends Poem by Robert Dummett

The start must end;
but shall we speak of lighter days
when we played the field,
and the world was ours in a fantasy?
When as friends we walked the night away,
and quoted men who had lived some other day?

Those were the days when youth and strength
never knew an end.
Where are you now, my friends?
When at cricket you stroked the ball
that sliced the mid-on field?
I remember well those days -
but faces are now blurred in memory.